So Many Days Later
by heygeniusbox
Summary: Rizzoli & Isles set during a zombie apocalypse. Jane and Maura are just trying to survive in a world they no longer recognize. I plan for this fic to range from T to M. Definitely Jane/Maura centric. F/F.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Really? I don't own them and have not made money off this. If I did this show would be very very different.

Takes place at the end of S1 for reasons that will be obvious soon enough. The utter disappointment of S2 never happened! Rizzles in a zombie apocalyptic world. Not kidding. Yes, this is about as AU as it gets. That's how my AU rolls. I'm making this up as I go. First fic ever. Like ever ever.

I plan for this to range anywhere from the T to M rating. There be zombies in here. Understand that there is pretty much only a handful of ways to kill those, all messy. The core of our characters remains the same, but obviously such trying times are bound to make them deviate from what is portrayed on the show.

Thanks for reading!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

The ground pounded beneath Jane's feet. Overgrown brush lashed at her pants, soaking the fabric with the raindrops that still clung heavily from the morning showers. The rain had made her seek shelter in a run down cabin in the middle of no-fucking-where and she had stupidly fallen asleep. Exhaustion was the hardest thing to adapt to amongst other things. She'd have to work on that.

The scraping and hissing was what woke her. Immediately she knew she was at a disadvantage in the small shanty - a rectangular room with two windows and one entry point. Her back would be against the wall in no time. _Time to bolt, Janie._ She burst through the door and glanced back to see four rotters trailing behind her. See Jane Run, fuckers.

Her legs churned like pistons, navigating the uneven terrain easily. She told herself to keep going. Just keep running and don't look back. She would always be faster, smarter. But the rotters never tired and were highly instinctual. No matter how much space she put between them, they would catch her eventually if she stopped too soon.

She hated running. Ironic since she had become so good at it.

_"Maybe you'd enjoy running more if you exercised proper form."_

_"Running is running," she'd said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Duh._

_"Pose, Jane. Pose."_

_"Okay…why?" Maybe her best friend was an alien._

_"No, _Pose_," she put emphasis on the word as if that made it any less puzzling. "It's a method of running. You strike the ground with your heel when you should really be striking with the mid-foot or ball. The indigenous people of Africa have been running this way for generations and studies have shown that is lessens shock on the body and makes you more efficient. You will tire less easily."_

_"Africa huh?" Jane was teasing her. Commenting on the least important thing Maura had to say was one of the easiest ways to get under her skin._

_Maura could only sigh and look at her in that adorably exasperated way that Jane loved._

_"You could be an excellent long distance runner, Jane. Your musculature is lean, the length of your bones creates a magnificent framework for the development of slow-twitch fibers…" And then she'd actually run her hand down Jane's thigh, from top to bottom. "You have a naturally long stride. We'll work on your form." She patted Jane on the knee before finally removing her hand to pick up a glass of wine._

_"Whatever you say, Maur." Jane said it with an extra helping of casual disinterest. It sounded believable to her. She'd been burying her desires for so long that she could almost believe it was real. Almost._

_The reality was she would do anything for this woman._

_As if reading her thoughts, Maura perked up._

_"Good because I've taken the liberty of signing us both up for the Boston marathon."_

_Jane had spit her beer out all over the counter._

The trees were flying past her in a blur and Jane realized she was smiling. Maura and that damn marathon had probably saved her life a dozen times over. She still hated running but Maura had come along and made her love to hate it. She had made her excellent at it. It's what Maura always did.

And then it hit her – the permeating absence of her best friend. Running for her life through a wet forest, it was a bad time to be having an emotional crisis but she couldn't help it. The questions sprang up like walls in front of her and she crashed through them all. How long had it been? More than weeks. Months. Where would she go? Will I ever find her? Was she even alive? Or worse, what if…oh God…..

_God dammit. _She ran faster even though she knew it was unwise, shaking her head to physically eliminate the thoughts from her mind. Distractions would only serve to get her- The lip of her boot caught against the bark of a fallen tree and suddenly Jane was tumbling over herself along the ground. Pain. A flash of white and then everything went dark.

**···················**

Her eyelids felt heavy like anchors. She blinked them open slowly at first and then more rapidly, willing herself to regain consciousness. She saw the overcast sky and heard nothing. So far so good. Touching the pain radiating at her temple, she pulled her hand back and saw blood covering her fingertips. Way to go, Rizzoli. Forget the rotters, she could get herself killed all on her own. _Fuck, the rotters!_

Jane shot to her feet and instantly the world spun with colors, forcing her to take a knee. The contents of her pack were scattered on the ground. Bars of every type littered the forest floor – protein, cereal, candy. Knowing those bastards were after her, she still couldn't afford to leave her rations behind and began picking them up. She'd only just begun when she heard rustling in the distance. Already? How long had she been out?

Panic and adrenaline coursed through her like fire, evaporating the fog of her concussion. She could continue running or make a stand here. It would be nice to have an advantage and she quickly surveyed her surroundings. Spotting a very large fallen tree, clarity of purpose came to her as it so often did when it came to matters of life and death. She grabbed her bag and propelled herself over the trunk.

_Deep breaths. In and out. Deep breaths. _Jane could feel her heart racing as she peered over the top of the trunk. It didn't take long for three rotters to emerge from the brush like living nightmares. Their movements were stilted and sloppy, legs dragging, arms flailing slightly. She could tell by their heavily decayed flesh that these had been wandering around for quite some time. All three stopped in tight formation as they came upon Jane's things. Their heads cocked. One of them roared. Where was the fourth one? It was a detail she couldn't be bothered with, not right now. Three-to-one was better odds than four-to-one.

"Come on, come on…" she murmered quietly to herself. Her left hand reached blindly for the dagger in her belt, pulling it out and flipping the blade into her fingertips. A machete was already gripped tightly in the other.

They stumbled in place for a few moments, snapping their jaws and looking around, looking for her. Finally, they broke apart. One headed right in her direction, the other two wandered the opposite way. It was exactly what Jane was hoping for. She hunkered down, listening as it neared. The rising sound of the dragging grass and snapping twigs would let her know when to strike.

She closed her eyes slowly, exhaled, and drew in a long steady breath.

Jane rose from her spot, the first rotter exactly where she anticipated it would be. A sharp whip of her arm combined with a flick of the wrist, and the dagger flew through the air. It met its target with a disgusting squelch. Almost as fast as a bullet, she thought. The rotter clawed at the knife buried in its forehead before falling backwards. Jane had already launched herself over the tree and was upon the other two before they had fully turned around. She beheaded the next one easily and swung her arm around to bury the edge of her machete into the head of the other. Both bodies thudded to the ground. It had taken less than ten seconds.

Instinctively, she stilled herself and listened for the fourth. She knew there was a fourth. The hissing and spitting from the rotter now separated from its body was all that remained. _The brain, you gotta kill the brain. _She looked at the decapitated head; it was as undeadly alive as ever and wanted nothing more than to devour her. Its jaw opened and closed weakly. Gross. A swift chop and the forest fell silent again. Jane wasn't even breathing hard. She didn't want to think about whether that was a good thing or not.

Satisfied that no other threats would be arriving anytime soon, she looked down at the bodies around her. They smelled like death. It was a smell she'd never get used to, worse than any deco she'd ever come across as a homicide detective. One of them had bled onto a package of Twinkies.

"Damn," she sighed.

After salvaging the items that hadn't been damaged in the melee, she cinched her pack tightly and strapped it to her body. A final weapons check and she was ready. Jane gave one last glance in the direction from which she came. The possibility that another zombie was out there on her tail would be in the back of her mind, maybe for days. Most likely it had wandered off and was no longer a danger. It was an uncertainty she could live with. She'd had to live with so many uncertainties since waking up in an empty hospital room, in an empty hospital, in a not so empty city.

Her fingers played absently at the edges of material wrapped around her hand. The red silk wound its way over her palm and wrist, round and round, all the way up the expanse of her forearm. It was always there no matter what, sometimes exposed, sometimes hidden beneath the layers, protected by her jacket sleeve. It had practically become permanent because Jane needed it that way. The fabric had lost its luster and softness, but was no less precious to her - a constant reminder of what the world once was before everything went to hell; a promise of what it might be again, if only in a small way. Most of all, it kept her from turning into someone she didn't want to be. Someone _she _would never want her to be.

Jane winced and started moving again, as quickly as she could. A slight jog was all she could muster.

This headache was a killer.

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	2. Chapter 2

Note: This chapter has a section that skirts around the topic of sexual violence. It's mild by most standards, but it needs to be said.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

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><p>She should be sleeping while luck was on her side. It was only by sheer chance that her encounter with the rotters had not ended in a multitude of different ways, all of them tragic. The wind howled outside and she gripped the stiff collars of her jacket together. A honed machete and firearm lay on the cold surface next to her head.<p>

Survival, it seemed, was a 24 hour job. Jane considered it a small victory if she managed two straight hours of sleep and even then, they were fitful. There were too many unknowns to keep track of, too many bumps in the night, things she swore she saw out of the corner of her eye… She reached for her gun. It was cool and dense and gave her a chilling sense of comfort. Her thumb played with the safety. Click, click, click.

She had continued west, sweeping as much terrain as she could. She had hoped to find a road or stream but that was hoping for too much. As the light faded in the sky, she knew she would need shelter soon and found it in a small cave jutting out from the earth. It was barely a crawl space but it was deep. Jane had moved all the way in, her back hugged firmly against the wall. The knowledge that nothing could sneak up behind her was a luxury.

"_Jane, you need to sleep. Please try."_

"_You try sleeping with that psycho killer out there coming after you." She was being an ass. Maura shouldn't let her get away it._

"_Do you want me to stay?" She was rubbing Jane's back and being nicer to her than she deserved._

"_Yea."_

Jane opened her eyes and the thoughts began ticking away, one after the other.

It had stopped snowing at least two months ago. The moderate temperatures and cooler nights meant that it was probably summer. That had made travelling much easier but the rotters were more animated now. Like everything else, they froze in the winter.

Maura wouldn't be in a city. No one with any sense of self-preservation would be in a city - they belonged to the undead. She would have done as Jane had and headed to the rural areas. Farms and houses dotted the landscape and each one had come up empty or infested. Perhaps she had found a group of people to travel with? If Maura was a moving target, she would be that much harder to find. This was worse than finding a needle in a haystack and Jane would never stop. What else was she going to do?

It was almost too difficult to imagine Maura out there in this dangerous new world. Maura was so beautiful. The world as it was did not take kindly to beautiful things anymore.

Jane re-gripped the weapon in her hands. It was a lesson she had learned the hard way.

Two days outside of Boston, Jane had finally come across another human being. His name was Paul and there was no question that they would begin trekking together from that point forward. It made sense as there was safety in numbers. Paul was a high school graduate who went into the family business of running a hardware store. Jane had joked that those were some of the best places to loot and he had laughed.

She had forgotten the benefits of having a partner - two sets of eyes instead of one, twice the supplies in case you ran out. They slept in shifts. Jane could feel herself getting sharper. She could feel herself adapting.

It turned out that her optimism in a landscape filled with death was naïve and her bullshit-detector had been gathering dust.

**···················**

_Jane felt a weight settle on top of her. She jerked awake and knew that it was him simply by the way he smelled. Ironically, it calmed her._

"_What are you doing?" she mumbled._

"_Shhh, it's okay." He continued to push her down. Jane felt something hard press between her legs and she realized it was his dick. What the hell, Paul._

"_Man, stop messing around. I'm tired." The threat hadn't even registered in her head yet, she had let her guard down that much._

"_I said it's okay," his hands pressed her down more firmly this time. And then he was fumbling with her pants._

"_Stop it," she couldn't scream the words like she wanted and risk a rotter being within earshot._

_But he wasn't stopping. He wasn't saying anything anymore. He was trying to rape her. Her hand shot out to the spot where her weapons would be but they were gone. Premeditation. Son of a bitch._

"_Get the fuck off me," she hissed it through her clenched teeth and brought her forearm under his chin, pushing him away. That's when he struck her across the cheek. Jane could taste something metallic in her mouth and she spit her blood in his face._

"_Doesn't have to be this way, Jane. Just let me," his voice was calm. He had reasoned these events all out in his head. He still thought he was a nice guy._

_Jane shoved the cold tip of her revolver under his chin and cocked the hammer. She'd never told him about the piece that she kept on her at all times, tucked underneath her pant leg. She'd thought about it, but somehow never did. Her instincts would never fail her._

**···················**

Paul would not be the last outlaw she'd run across, but he would be the only one to fool her. Jane had seen the absolute worst of what human beings could do to one another. She had witnessed it, studied it, solved it, and not solved it. Rinse and repeat. Over and over. The experience served her well now.

Evil only amplified itself in a world with no laws.

It was not to say that no goodness remained. Her fingers curled into her palm, pressing at the silk there. Jane knew she was still keeping it together. All her encounters were not bad; she'd had a handful of good ones. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep her from losing faith in mankind altogether.

There was the sweet immigrant family that she stayed with for a few days. A husband, a wife, a son, and a daughter. They welcomed her into their small, fortified home and she'd eaten her first hot meal in weeks. Watching the children eagerly gobble up her candy bars, she tried to feel joy instead of sadness. Stay as long as you'd like. But Jane still had someone to find. Family? Jane smiled and said yes.

Then there were the two young women that Jane had nearly shot to death. They snuck up on her in the pharmacy of a ghost town. She was looking for antibiotics, they were looking for water. How they had made it so long was a mystery. Zero survival skills. Jane would teach them as much as she could. They had each other's backs and reminded Jane so much of her and Maura that she wanted to cry. She'd left a note and snuck away in the middle of the night.

It wasn't safe to trust anyone no matter how right it felt.

Jane sighed and focused beyond the barrel of her gun. The color of the sky signaled that it would be time to go soon. Another restless night. It was no way to function and yet, she couldn't remember the last time she yawned.

She crawled out of her space, rolling from the mouth of the cave onto the damp ground below. Her muscles were stiff and aching from the header she took. The forest smelled cool and fresh. Her ears registered the chirping of birds, the skittering of insects. That only happened in the absence of rotters. Jane pulled an energy bar from her pack along with her map and compass. _Mmm, banana nut bread._ Tearing it open with her teeth, she sat and ate. Unfolding a map one-handed was a skill she had not quite mastered. The paper tented and collapsed in on itself as she flicked it. Whoever came up with the backassward way of folding these things…

A sharp snap of twigs behind her. Another sound, the crunching of vegetation. The steps were measured, sure-footed. Human. Jane dropped everything, gun once again in her hands, finger on the trigger. Finger always on the trigger. More sounds, this time in other directions meaning there was more than one. _Shit._ She scooted back against the rock of her shelter willing herself to look over the edge.

Four men. They weaved through the trees, focused on the forest floor, on their surroundings. Two armed with assault rifles. Two carrying semi-automatics, holstered. They were spread out, walking in her direction. Of course they would be. This damn rock was like a beacon. Jane cursed under her breath. There were too many and running was not an option. Neither was hiding. They would surely investigate the cave and she'd be a sitting duck. _Think Rizzoli, think._ If they were decent men, they would let her go. If they weren't, she was dead anyway. Deep breaths.

"_You're very brave, Jane."_

And then she stepped on her half-eaten breakfast. So so sloppy. The artificial sound of crinkling plastic echoed like a clap of thunder in Jane's ears. _Fuck me_. A bird flew away in the distance. Shuffling sounds. Heavy steps. The men were taking cover. Jane should have gotten more sleep last night.

"Who's there? We're armed!"

"I'm armed too motherfuckers!" she shouted back.

"We're not gonna hurt you."

She looked over the slab of rock, trying to stay as low as possible. Her hamstrings burned. The trees weren't very thick and she could see exactly where each man was. They were, however, thick enough that none of her shots would be clean. She exhaled in frustration.

"Look, we can help you lady," one of the men offered. "Just drop your weapon and come out."

Jane scoffed. Really?

"How about you drop your weapons and come out? Oh I'm sorry, did I just insult your intelligence?" _Idiots._

"Everyone hold your fire!"

Jane froze at the voice. A figure stepped out from one of the trees. She stood slowly, gun lowered, and suddenly everything had gone numb. The rest of the men appeared. Her arm flinched reflexively but did not rise.

"Janie?" A look of astonishment was on his face. His dark hair had been cut short, too short for her tastes and there he was, all grown up. Alive.

"Frankie?"

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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><p><em>Little boys were supposed to be like their fathers. Society encouraged it. His mother did her best to shoehorn him into the mold, but Frankie never saw his father as a role model. The elder Rizzoli was a good man, just not one that he aspired to be.<em>

_So when Mrs. Pyle assigned her first grade class to write a one-page paper titled "Who Is Your Hero?" young Frankie wrote his paper on Jane. The classroom erupted in laughter as he read it out loud. During recess the boys took turns shoving him to the ground for wanting to be a girl._

_Jane promptly climbed over the chain link fence seperating their grades and stomped on all their feet with her cowboy boots._

**···················**

"You move fast. We almost lost your trail until we found that stack of rotters you left behind," he said. Then he smiled, his voice a whisper tinged with pride. "The guys can't believe you took out three on your own. Close combat like that? Holy shit, Jane!"

He looked older now but his boyish features never seemed to fade. Maybe that was just the way Jane saw him. He would always be her kid brother.

She smiled back, humbled, not quite understanding how he was sitting next to her. She had twisted a gun into her liver and pulled the trigger. A lot before that was a blur, memory loss by trauma and stupidity. One of the few things she could recollect? Frankie coughing up a pool of blood as she and Maura tried desperately to save his life.

No, not tried. Maura _had_ saved him. And she still hadn't found Maura.

_She wore a red dress that day._

Frankie continued on obliviously, "—and once you get back to base you'll see."

Jane snapped out of it. "Wait what? Base? I'm not going to any base."

He blinked once. Then twice. "What do you mean?"

"I need to be out here," she said simply. "I'm not sure your 'base' is where I belong." She considered her words and hell, if she wasn't making any sense.

Frankie's reaction confirmed her thoughts.

"So you'd rather run around out here and risk getting killed than come back with us? You can't be serious. It's…it's crazy!"

"That's not what I said. I said I wasn't sure," Jane rubbed her forehead. How could she explain this without sounding nuts?

"The government is rebuilding, Jane. Finally. We have resources, supplies, people, soldiers. Come back with us, you'll see. I promise it's not like it was before," he implored but she stared at her hands, trying to find a way to convince him he was wrong.

The other three soldiers had spread out in a circular pattern to finish canvassing the area. Brief introductions had been made before they continued with their orders, giving her and Frankie a bit of privacy.

"You trust those guys?" she tipped her chin in their direction.

"I do. They're good men."

"Good men..." she repeated, not even bothering to hide her bitterness.

Frankie got up and stood in front of her, eyes filled with empathy. Empathy for God-knows-what his sister had gone through and the strength it took to keep going. So many others had given up and even with their Catholic upbringing he didn't blame them one bit.

There was no way he was letting her go.

"I'm not gonna pretend that I know what it was like for you out here. There are still rotters all over the place. And the outlaws? They're almost worse. Jesus…" He put his hand on her shoulder. "You're lucky that you're still in one piece, lucky you've gotten this far. You're tougher than anyone I know but even you... All this time out here on your own, aren't you exhausted?"

She stared out in the distance. Exhausted did not begin to describe it. Her refusal to let that - or anything else for that matter - stop her was, in Jane's opinion, one of her better qualities.

But it had all come perilously close to ending that morning. She never imagined she would have to endure so much for so long. Jane was far from weak, but she was still human. It might be smarter to recharge and then set out again.

He impatiently waved his hand up and down at her. "Is this what you really want? God, look at you Jane with the blood and the knives and the...the everything. You look like Rambo for Chrissakes!"

She chuckled softly.

"Seriously. I'm kinda scared of you."

"Frankie stop," she smiled warmly at him.

"No really. Scared of you. What's with the crouching tiger, hidden dragon thing anyway? Don't you have a gun?"

"Trust me, out here the blade is mightier than the bullet," she assured.

"Jane, I'm not going back without you. You're my sister and I love you."

"Aww, Frankie," she mocked.

He ignored her. "If I have to drag you back kicking and screaming, I'll do it."

She raised her eyebrow at him.

"I might shit my pants, but I will do it."

One of the men called out in their direction. "Hey Frank! We gotta head back soon. Area's clear."

He could probably tell by her stubborn ass face that she wasn't going.

"Listen Frankie-"

"I can't go back and tell mom I left you out here," the words spilled out so fast they ran together like marbles.

If Jane weren't already sitting she might have crumbled.

"Ma?" she asked quietly.

"Yea. She's back at base. Runs the freakin' mess hall, go figure," he said, voice nearly breaking, belying his smile.

"Pa? Tommy?" Jane was on her feet now, eager to know more. Hopeful.

The question was inevitable. Playing the mom card meant he would have to reveal his entire hand. With eyes cast downward he shook his head.

"No Janie. Pa and Tommy…no."

A pregnant pause hung between them as those horrible words gave way to meaning. The proper reaction might be to cry. Jane turned from him knowing the tears would not come.

Ever the realist, she had spent the long days mourning while barricaded in her modest apartment. She had buried their memories, all of them, one by one, as the winter and the rotters raged outside. They were sad reminders, ones she couldn't burden herself with. Not if she intended to live.

She had only carried Maura in her heart as she clawed her way out of Boston and roamed this godforsaken wasteland. Days turned into weeks. Weeks became months. Could she bear months becoming years? Yes. If Maura was out there, undeniably yes.

But Frankie had just given her the worst reality check ever.

_Maybe you're chasing a ghost._

Jane hated herself for even thinking it. Her fingers pulled at her hair, mussing up the stretch of her ponytail and she let out a frustrated growl. Her fists flailed out, punching at nothing in particular.

Frankie stepped back in surprise when she whipped around to face him.

"Where's..."

The name wanted to escape her lips. It mangled her throat, demanding to be known. But she'd not said it out loud for so long and Jane just couldn't do it. She wasn't ready to know, she might not ever be ready.

_Coward._

Frankie was waving off his guys, trying to buy them a little more time. He looked at her expectantly.

"Where's your base?" she sighed.

Frankie beamed.

**···················**

The compound loomed over their military vehicle, its securely fortified entrance manned by soldiers. AK-47s, flak jackets, helmets, walkie talkies. The high stone walls and coils of barbed wire would easily keep out the rotters and fend off all but the most determined outlaw.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Jane.

"A prison? Really?" she mumbled to her brother.

"I know but think about it. The design is perfect."

"Only this time we're keeping the baddies out not in..."

"Exactly."

They came to a stop and Frankie motioned for her to step out of the truck with him.

There were people everywhere.

He had told her the base housed over eight hundred civilians and militia. Now they surrounded her, walking around as if nothing ever happened. Men and women in everyday clothes stared at her like she was an alien. Their scrutinizing glances peppered her like fleas. Jane scowled and wondered when any of them had last seen a rotter.

Frankie sensed the tension radiating off her.

"Easy sis."

She didn't notice when a tall man carrying a clipboard walked up to them.

"And who do we have here?"

"Jane Rizzoli," Frankie answered. He was trying so hard not to smile. "She's my sister."

The man peered over his thin glasses resting on his thin nose. "Not often that we get reunions. Lucky you," he said dryly.

Jane bristled. "I'm sorry and who are you?"

He ignored her and scribbled something down on his clipboard.

"Okay Miss Rizzoli, surrender your weapons here and go with this soldier." He signaled to an armed man who quickly trotted over. "He will take you to debriefing. After that you'll be processed and assigned a room."

_The fuck?_

"The hell I will," she growled. Her hands dropped protectively to the weapons belt slung around her waist.

He arched an eyebrow at her hostility, his eyes moving from her hands to Frankie.

"Just give us a second," Frankie said. He took Jane by the arm and led her a few steps away. She hadn't stopped glaring at the other man. "Look, I should have warned you about this part. I'm sorry."

"I'm not handing over my weapons."

"I understand this sucks for you, but you can't just carry your gun and sword around. Most of the people here are civilians."

"Machete," she corrected.

"Please Jane. Trust me."

She fixed him with a hard stare, her jaw set firmly.

He ran his hand through his shorn, crew-cut hair. "Give them to me then. I will take you to the debrief myself, okay?" More staring. He whispered harshly, "Dammit Jane, if you don't cooperate they will take your things by force and then I won't be able to vouch for you anymore. _Please_."

Her lips pressed into a thin line and she closed her eyes. She couldn't believe she was doing this.

"Fucking shit..."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

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><p>The base captain was an older man who didn't mince words or talk down to her. That Jane didn't particularly like or dislike him was, well, progress.<p>

She answered his questions. Explained how she had woken up, somehow alive, in a stale hospital bed, and managed to not get bitten or raped long enough to be sitting here. It surprised her how little there was to tell. The days had bled into one another, a never ending routine of running, foraging, and fighting.

She still had nothing to show for it.

"So Detective Jane Rizzoli-," he said casually, flipping through a file. Jane assumed it was hers.

"I'm not a detective," she said. There was a time when those words would have absolutely gutted her. But the world didn't need detectives anymore. Cause of death and motive were pretty fucking obvious these days.

"Aren't you?" he questioned sincerely. "The plague didn't take away your training or experience. It certainly didn't take away your skills in the field. This report claims that you single-handedly exterminated three undeads on your own. Is that true?"

"Exterminated?" She nearly laughed at the term. "Yea okay."

"With a machete. Would it not have been safer to use your firearm?"

Now she was laughing. He, however, was not.

She cleared her throat and leaned forward.

"You're kidding right? I blast off at every rotter and outlaw that comes across my path and I might as well shoot up a flare and ring the supper bell."

The captain pondered this quietly. Surely this was not new intel? Something was off but Jane concealed her growing disbelief. Not one of the soldiers had been carrying an edged weapon.

"We're done here for now," he closed the folder in front of him. "And we're always looking for good soldiers. This base isn't much yet, we're still working out the kinks. In the meantime, everyone does something. You should consider joining up. Your unique experience would be invaluable."

"I'll think about it," she said. It actually didn't sound horrible.

"Soldiers are allowed to carry their weapons on base," he pointed out. "I'm sure that would make you more-"

He was interrupted by a very dramatic, very annoying wail coming from the other side of the office door.

Jane found herself all at once horrified and completely overjoyed.

"JANIE! OH MY BABY GIRL LET ME SEE MY BABY GIRL!"

They heard Frankie trying to frantically shush her mother.

"JANIEEEEE!"

She winced involuntarily and glanced at the captain. He was altogether unfazed. Perhaps he'd become familiar with her mom's antics. Good grief, most likely everyone here had.

She shifted in her seat. "I better go." Halfway out of her chair, an old habit surprisingly kicked in. "Um, am I dismissed?"

"Dismissed," he said. "I look forward to seeing you again, Jane."

**···················**

Frankie literally clamped his hand over his mom's mouth.

"Ma! What'd I say? I told you I'd only bring you up here if you promised to hold it together. That includes not crying like a banshee while Jane is getting debriefed by the freakin' captain."

Angela obediently nodded her tear-stained face, his hand moving with her. Going against his better judgement, he removed it. She sniffed once and stood quietly.

It lasted seven seconds.

"JANIE!"

"Ma!"

The door swung open and a half-exasperated, half choked-up Jane emerged.

No one moved. Her brother appeared to be readying himself for an epic meltdown. What would be the appropriate thing to say? She had never returned from the grave before.

"Hey, Ma."

Her mother's strong Italian arms flew around her neck, nearly strangling the life out of her. Jane could see the headlines now: _Newest Base Member Exterminated by Own Mother_. Then came the kisses. Kisses rained down all over Jane's face, each one punctuated by kissy sounds. Only her mom could go from zero-to-smother in three seconds flat. It was dizzying.

A firm hand gripped her jaw, squeezing her cheeks together.

_Oww..._

"Janie, look at you. You're alive. You're alive!" The hand shook her face with each syllable. "Oh my God..." her mother bemoaned, then stepped back to take in her daughter. "What are you wearing? You're so _thin_. Did you forget to eat? Are you hungry?"

Jane wasn't even annoyed. "I missed you too," she said.

**···················**

"You're almost done," Frankie said encouragingly as he led her along a concrete walkway.

The cell blocks had been repurposed into housing for the base population. The prison facilities were modern, instead of bars there were metal doors and reinforced plexiglass. People roamed freely, going about their daily activities, whatever those were. Jane scanned the cells as they passed. Most were decorated sparsely - a picture here, a poster there, books, small electronics, boardgames, lamps.

Home sweet home.

"Our ratio of civilians to militia is about three-to-one. That's considered low compared to the other bases," he explained. Other bases? "It's probably cause we got a lot of kids here. Lots of families. We're the only compound that I know of that offers schooling. It's kinda nice in a way."

Jane listened silently. God she was tired. Her pounding headache decided to make an encore performance right about the same time she had reunited with thier mom. She was convinced the two were correlated.

"How you holding up?" he asked.

"I'm alright. Feel a little like a fish out of water."

"You'll get used to it," he smiled. "Infirmary's next. You get a physical, then you get cleaned up and that's it. Oh and just so you know, the showers can run out of-"

Jane stopped in her tracks. "I can take a shower?"

"Yea," he scrunched his nose. "And you could use one."

"Forget mom. If you'd just told me that I would have driven you boys here myself."

They exited the cell block and made their way down a wide hall, the bustle of the living quarters fading behind them. Frankie nodded at an armed guard as they passed through a set of swinging doors.

Rows of hospital beds lined both sides of a large room lit brightly by flourescent lights. The infirmary walls were a pale orange color making the place feel warm instead of sterile.

"Usually there's a nurse in here." Frankie frowned at the empty room. He motioned to a row of chairs against the wall. "Let's sit down."

Jane took a seat while he stepped over to a water cooler. The liquid contents made a 'glug, glug' sound as he filled a disposable cup. He gave it to her before plopping down himself. She stared at the offering in her hand and couldn't help laughing.

"What's so funny?"

She shook her head, "Nothing. Nothing it's just..." she turned to him. "It's like the virus never happened in here. It's _weird_, Frankie."

"No it's not. You've just been running around out there for too long. Didn't I tell you things were different?" He nudged her gently with his elbow. "You don't have to be scared anymore."

"No. No, that's the problem," she said concerned. "You do."

"Man, you are paranoid."

Jane rolled her eyes and sipped her water. It tasted cool and crisp and was without a doubt the cleanest thing to pass her lips in months. She could have chugged the entire thing if she wanted. There was a full tank waiting to dispense refills, but every braincell she had was telling her to ration it. Old habits die hard, she thought. Hers especially.

A few moments passed before she noticed a small metal tray sitting on a wheeled cart. Tiny sterile tools sat upon it, all of them perfectly aligned. A huge steel sink resided in the far corner and next to it a long counter with various glass jars holding various hospital-y things. Cotton balls, swabs, antiseptic, latex gloves...

Jane's heart lurched in her chest.

She would never get used to how fast it happened; how bitterly painful it still was when the dull void of Maura's absence transformed itself into full blown heartache. This room was a veritable museum dedicated to her medical examiner. _Was that a fucking lab coat?_ Jane shuddered. The linoleum floor between her dirty boots had suddenly become very interesting.

Frankie was observing her so closely his eyes were burning a hole in her head.

"You okay?"

"Yup." The word came out short, clipped.

"You sure?"

She nodded sharply not taking her eyes off the floor.

He waited a beat.

"I know this place looks a lot like..." he trailed off.

_Oh please don't go there._

She felt his strong hand on her back. "Janie, why haven't you asked about-"

"Frankie." She warned. It took every bit of self control she had not to crush the poor styrofoam cup in her hand.

"Alright, alright. Hey..." He tried to make eye-contact but she was unwilling. "Everything's gonna be fine." He gave her a final, reassuring pat. "I'm gonna go find the medic. Wait here."

She nodded again and he was gone.

The faint click of a door echoed in the room as Frankie disappeared. Jane released a breath she didn't know she was holding and slouched backwards against the wall. A few creature comforts got dangled in front of her and she'd lost sight of everything. The guilt hit her like a slap across the face. What had she been thinking? Joining up? She cringed into her hand.

She couldn't stay here. Not when she had so much to lose.

Frankie and her mom would just have to understand. She would promise to return when it was all over. Already thinking about how in the hell she was going to get her weapons back, she heard the sigh of a door opening and footfalls. She ignored it until the muted rhythm of the steps squeaked to a halt. Jane needn't look up to know that those didn't belong to Frankie's military issued boots.

"Look who I found," he called out.

The phrase "deer in the headlights" then took on a whole new meaning. The cup wobbled in her hand and somewhere far far away, Frankie was grinning like an idiot. He might as well have been back in Boston as Jane struggled to accept what she was seeing; that the person standing next to him was not some hallucination born of the environment or from the anguish that so recently constricted her heart.

The medic was obviously struggling just as much as she was. It was enough for Jane to know she was real.

Her clothes were casual but neat, something Jane herself might have worn on a lazy Sunday in that other life. Absolutely nothing would differentiate the woman from the rest of the population other than the stethescope hanging from her delicate neck. Sandy blond locks were pulled back into a ponytail that was more functional than fashionable. She was entirely plain.

Entirely beautiful.

And Jane was ready.

"Maura," she breathed.

**···················**

Extensive studies have widely speculated that for every individual in the world, there existed a doppelganger. Not an exact replica but someone similar enough to deceive a casual acquaintance. Maura and Jane were by no means casual acquaintences and yet here she was, dangerously close to believing.

This imposter was not Jane. It was simply not possible.

She reasoned that this was either a callous trick by Mother Nature, or that Jane was risen from the ashes, literally, like a phoenix. Both scenarious were highly unlikely given the declining numbers in world population and the fact that Jane was not a mythical creature.

_Maura._

The voice, barely audible, stretched across the room and drew her in. With an unmistakable inflection, it slotted into place next to every memory of Jane that Maura held dear.

The symptoms immediately began to manifest themselves. Tachycardia. Shortness of breath. Disorientation.

_Maura had watched Jane die twice. Witnessed it with her own two eyes. The first time, Jane had sacrificed herself in front of BP headquarters on an otherwise sunny afternoon. Her blood seeped into the hem of Maura's dress as she knelt beside her, hands pressed hard against Jane's abdomen. The blood flowed like little rivers through her fingers._

_Jane's eyes fluttered shut and Maura would not see them open again._

_She would die her second time at Boston Medical. While the paramedics managed to stabalize her, the blood loss was too great. By the time they reached the hospital, she coded in emergency. Maura screamed helplessly through the glass as the defribrillator charged and violently shocked Jane's limp body, over and over. She would eventually be led away by Korsak and two nurses. For weeks after, Maura would hear the shrill beep of the heart rate monitor flat-lining in her dreams._

_The following day Jane fell into a coma. Maura stayed by her side until the shadow of the outbreak fell over the city and forced them apart forever._

_Maura would be miles away when the voice on the radio announced, in cruel real-time, the structural targets of the government mandated "cleansing." She and Frost listened with quiet horror, riding side-by-side in the rear-seat of a FBI vehicle._

_The hospital had been the second building destroyed._

_As it happened, she darkly imagined that Jane would crack some sick joke about how 'third time was the charm.' Maura wept and laughed deliriously before a wave of nausea overtook her. Agent Dean pulled the car over, and she wretched the contents of her stomach onto the side of the highway. There would be no more jokes._

_As time went on, she would try to find solace in the facts. A comatose Jane would have felt no pain. In death, she would not have to witness the tragedy of the virus. She was in a better place..._

_All of these thoughts gave not one ounce of comfort to Maura, and she knew it incredibly selfish to want nothing more than to have Jane back. Selfish and unfeasible._

_It was silly to hope for such things._

Her heart was racing.

Remain calm, she repeated to herself. Maura could surely rectify her current state of emotional distress. She initiated a countdown, attempting to take deep breaths, but discovered the room was mysteriously devoid of any air. _That was odd_. Her legs moved without permission and the ground dissolved beneath her.

The distant tapping of an object striking the tile.

Her name shouted through the distance.

Falling and floating in simultation.

Jane.

And then Maura drifted into darkness.

**···················****···················****···················**


	5. Chapter 5

****Chapter 5****

* * *

><p><em>It was the right thing to do, Jane told herself. Maura was in no condition to drive and she wasn't the kind of woman you offered your pizza and beer stained couch to. Jane wondered if Maura had ever slept on a couch in her life. Maybe. One with big fancy cushions filled with the wool of free-range Himalayan sheep and put together by the monks of-<em>

"_Can't sleep?" Maura asked quietly._

"_Huh? No. I mean, yes. I mean, I can," she stammered. "Just not used to all the vino." Jesus, what was wrong with her? She stared at the popcorn on her ceiling. _

"_I can take the couch if this makes you uncomfortable."_

"_It doesn't," she scoffed, more defensively than she'd meant._

_Sensing where Jane's mind had gone, Maura elaborated. "Humans are creatures of habit. Perhaps you sleep diagonally or like to take up the entire bed?" Even in the darkness, Jane could see the teasing quirk of Maura's eyebrow. The slight upturn of her lips. "If my being here disrupts your routine, I assure you I can sleep just as well on your couch."_

_For some reason, that was the last place Jane wanted her._

_She was being stupid. It's not like this was the first time she'd ever shared her bed with another girl. She turned on her side, roughly adjusting the pillow under her head, and forced herself to look over._

_Maura Isles was a beautiful woman. Some days she was even breathtaking. And in Jane's bed, wearing Jane's old Patriots tee and a pair of her worn out sweat shorts, she was dangerously appealing. Jane swallowed and considered putting herself on the couch - for both their sakes._

"_You're fine," she squeaked out. "Wine always makes me a little...um..." Horny. "I'm more of a beer gal."_

_Maura blinked sleepily._

"_Thank you for letting me stay, for everything…" she said, her voice thick from the two bottles of merlot they had shared. She slid her hand across the small space between them and touched Jane's arm. "I can't remember the last time I've enjoyed an evening more. I'm so happy we've developed a friendship, Jane."_

"_Me too," Jane said and Maura's drowsy expression blossomed into a shy smile which Jane couldn't help but return. "Me too."_

_In the morning, Jane woke first and not caring what it meant, watched Maura sleep until the alarm went off._

__**···················**__

She ran her hand lightly down Maura's cheek, all the way down to her shoulder and shook gently.

"Maur. Hey Maur, can you hear me?" Save for the slow rise and fall of her chest, she was completely motionless. Jane tried again, more forcefully this time.

"Maura."

Her head faintly wobbled and lolled to one side.

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to do that," Frankie said.

Jane placed both her hands on the bed they'd carried Maura to and looked at him, irritated.

"Why didn't you tell me she was here? This whole time!"

"Um, because I know you."

"Then I don't have to tell you how pissed off I am. And what the hell is that supposed to mean anyway?"

He sighed and crossed his arms, making clear the implication she should damn well already know the answer.

"What!" Jane demanded.

"Okay, I'll admit that at first I thought it might be nice to, you know, surprise you-"

"Yea, fantastic job with that," she interrupted, gesturing to Maura's supine form for emphasis.

"_And then_ I realized you're still the same stubborn ass you always were, and it would be better for everyone if you didn't know," he finished.

Jane's face puckered into a mix of confusion and offense.

"If you knew she was here, alive, what would you have done the second we got off that truck?" he asked.

Her indignation withered away. _Well, shit._

Without a doubt, Jane would have torn the place apart trying to get to Maura. Her eyes shifted to the side and she adjusted her stance, then looked back at him. Boy was he satisfied with himself.

"Fine," she conceded and he grinned triumphantly.

Her eyes drifted back down to Maura. The blonde hair was a touch darker than Jane remembered. She shamefully realized for the first time that Maura had probably been highlighting her hair ever since they'd met. Always one to appear so put together, not a trace of make-up touched her face now. The light freckling Jane sometimes saw during their sleepovers was now exposed for anyone to appreciate. She found herself strangely possessive of them.

A stray lock of hair hung loose over Maura's forehead and Jane gently tucked it away. She didn't care that she looked entirely love-struck, and if Frankie was at all discomfited by her affection, he didn't show it.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry," he added. "I wanted to tell you."

"I understand why you didn't."

"I had no idea she'd pass out like this."

Jane smiled fondly. "She's sensitive about certain things. This is a woman who fainted one time because she cheated on her homework."

Frankie chuckled.

The corner of Maura's mouth twitched as she began to stir. The starchy bed sheets crinkled, protesting her movements.

"Maura?"

"No..." she murmured.

"It's me, Maur." Jane tried but couldn't quite tame the joy spreading over her face.

"No...no," she continued.

"It's okay. It's Jane."

Flecked hazel eyes blinked open and Jane unconsciously leaned forward, wanting so badly to feel a connection. Maura brought her hand to Jane's face, running her thumb along the sharp cheekbone there. Still disoriented, she blinked a few times more.

"Jane?"

"Hey," she choked out.

"I would never..." she swallowed. "I lied about finishing my homework. I didn't cheat," she corrected sweetly.

It was so perfect. So _Maura_.

And just like that, Jane fell over whatever ledge she was teetering on and brought Maura up into her arms. It was all at once familiar and unfamiliar. She felt lighter than Jane expected. Warm. Like so many times before, Maura's arms found their place around her neck, sealing them together, and bringing Jane home. Gone was the light fragrance of expensive perfume, replaced instead by a clean, shower-fresh smell. Different but still Maura.

Jane was suddenly aware of how completely opposite this particular experience might be for the other woman.

"Are you okay?" She asked, the question muffled slightly by Maura's neck.

Maura cried gently, the words not coming. She managed to nod her response enthusiastically.

Jane smiled. "I bet I smell horrible, huh?"

A small pause as she considered her response - then she nodded again, a bit more hesitantly. Maura couldn't even gesture a lie.

Slightly mortified and slightly amused, Jane loosened their embrace only to be denied by the arms encircling her neck.

So she tried again with words, "I thought I'd never see you again."

This time, Maura did pull back and held Jane's face in her hands. Her teary eyes studied Jane's features as if committing them to memory all over again.

"I don't understand. You died," she said weakly. "You died..." Maura closed her eyes, the memory of that day flooding back. "The hospital was destroyed by federal order. The infestation too massive to counter…" Her words faded away as she tried to make sense of the past.

That explained the rubble Jane would find not fifteen feet from her room. The portion of the wing that housed her bed had somehow remained standing. Everything else lay in ruins.

"Well, they missed," she shrugged. Her low voice drew Maura back to the present and the easy, reassuring smile Jane gave to her felt like second nature. "Lucky me."

Maura rewarded Jane with a small smile of her own. She slid her hands down to the other woman's shoulders. Even under her light touch she discerned a troubling tightness in the muscles there.

"Jane, how did you get here?"

Frankie cleared his throat and Maura jumped.

"Oh my goodness! Frankie," she said, her hand over her heart. "I didn't know you were here."

"I…noticed that," he said. He looked awkwardly from Maura to his sister and then back to Maura. "Sorry to have to interrupt." He handed her a cup of water which she accepted gratefully. "Some rotters were spotted in the area this morning. We found Jane while sweeping the east quadrant."

"That is quite fortuitous," she remarked. It was almost unbelievable.

"Mmm hmm, quite," Jane said, distracted, fingering the stethoscope that still hung on Maura's neck. "Are you a doctor now? Like a doctor doctor?" She turned the circular piece in her fingers. Why were these things always so cold? "Like a people doctor?"

Maura watched Jane fidget curiously with the chest piece dangling over her heart. The shiny metal stood out in stark contrast to the strong, smudged hand that held it. When Jane stopped and raised her eyebrow, Maura realized she had been staring.

"Yes. Yes, I serve as a physician now. Here on the base," she said. Maura couldn't decipher the expression on Jane's face and began to ramble. "Of course, I wasn't able to obtain an actual degree - that would be impossible given the total collapse of our educational system. I had my reservations, but the lack of other qualified individuals in the population made it necessary for me to 'step up' so to speak." She straightened her posture and continued. "I studied every medical textbook and journal I could find. I also have a bit of experience from my volunteer work in Doctors Without Borders to draw upon. With the assistance of the only other doctor we have on the compound, I feel that I've been able to perform the duties sufficiently."

Jane never stopped smiling and looked at her in that way no one else did. It always made Maura feel positively charming versus failingly odd.

Jane released the stethoscope and it bumped gently against her sternum.

"So what you're saying is you're still a genius?" she said and Maura blushed lightly. "I think that's great, Maur."

"Better than great," Frankie chimed in. "Doc's been incredible. I can't tell you how many of the guys she's patched up since we got here."

"None of the injuries were serious," Maura said, brushing off the compliment.

"Yea yea yea," he said and then got to the point. "Look, I know you both have a lot of catching up to do, but Jane still needs her evaluation before..."

Maura nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Right. Of course. I can-"

"You feeling up to it? You want me to find Sal?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she waved off his concern. "I'm fine if not a little embarrassed. Besides, Dr. Bennett is out on a supply run. He won't be back for hours."

"Wait, what's going on?" Jane asked, confused.

"It's similar to getting a physical but less in-depth," Maura clarified.

"Okay…" The idea of getting poked and prodded, even if it was Maura, did not appeal to her. "And why is this necessary again?"

"Standard procedure for all new intakes. We have to make sure you have no serious injuries or illnesses."

"Make sure people haven't been bit," Frankie said.

"And that," Maura agreed. She swung her legs around to hop off the bed but a protesting Jane stalled her progress.

"But I haven't been bitten, you both know this," Jane said.

"I can't possibly confirm that diagnosis until I examine you."

"Maura," she huffed. "Come on."

"It's no big deal, just get it over with," Frankie argued.

"If it's no big deal then I can skip it," she countered back.

"Jane really, you're being childish," Maura insisted. It had always required a ridiculous amount of coercion for Jane to do her yearly physicals.

"I'm your sister. Can't you hook me up with some kind of exception?"

"Jane, on a scale of one to important I'm just a grunt."

"I guess some things never change," Jane smarted off.

"Hey!"

"Hook up? As in sexual intercourse?" Maura asked, brow furrowed. She said it out loud but was clearly processing the confusion in her own mind.

"What?" They both spat out in unison.

"No, Maur..." Jane covered her cringing face with her hand. "I said 'hook me up' not 'hook up.' It's...they're different," she groaned.

"Ahhh," she said, the light bulb blinking to life over her head. "You see how I confused the idioms just now."

Jane patted Maura on the knee, her face twisted good-naturedly with disgust.

"Yes, honey, we see that."

Frankie started to giggle uncontrollably. Jane shot him a withering glance, but it was half-hearted at best. She couldn't keep her own laughter from bubbling to the surface and soon they were both rolling like children.

If there was a joke, Maura was sure she had missed it by a mile. It wouldn't be the first time. She smiled beautifully at Jane. "I said something funny? Or you're laughing at me?"

"Oh man," Jane wheezed between gulps of air. "No no, you're perfect. Just...this is..." she took a deep breath, trying to come down from the hysteria. It didn't help that Frankie had keeled over, still in fits. She was breathing hard, her stomach on the verge of cramping.

The moment was so blissfully normal. Jane would have given anything to stay in it forever.

"Jane?" Maura asked, amused.

Jane sobered somewhat, her eyes moist with emotion. The toothy grin of her laughter eased into a calm smile. She bent forward to rest her forehead against Maura's and a single tear leaked out from beneath her eyelids.

"It's just..." She took another shaky breath. "God, I missed you so much."

Jane was the first "touchy-feely" friend that Maura ever had. In the beginning it had taken some adjustment on her part, but she adapted quickly to Jane's seemingly random touches. As time went on, Maura determined that given the frequency and the nature of Jane's physical contact with her, it might not be random at all. Yet without actual numbers or hard evidence, she was unwilling to make anything of it.

Now, she was achingly aware of their close proximity - Jane standing between her knees, hands resting on her thighs; the warm pressure of Jane's palms transferring through the thin material and into Maura's skin. She was overcome with the need to kiss her and barely resisted the urge. If they were alone, she might not have.

Jane tensed suddenly and a small part of Maura panicked, sure that she had somehow given herself away.

"Someone's coming," Jane said. She pulled away from Maura, her face set with concentration.

Maura listened but heard only silence until the swinging doors behind Jane swished open. The sharp sound of dress shoes striking the linoleum reverberated through the room.

Frankie looked up. "Aw shit," he mumbled and glanced quickly at the back of Maura's head.

Jane could feel Maura squeezing her forearm and she looked over her shoulder.

In her weaker moments, stranded out in the wastelands, Jane allowed herself to speculate on the fate of her loved ones. Depending on the day, it could bolster her resolve or eat her alive from the inside out.

She never stopped to think of those she despised, and how their odds of survival were just as good as anyone else's. In fact, you could argue that their odds were even better. Survival of the fittest, eat or be eaten, kill or be killed - all at any cost. It's what always made the bad guys so hard to catch. The bastards were pre-loaded for the apocalypse.

Not that she had any room to talk. Circumstances were shitty and Jane had crossed the line herself. More than once. A line stretched so thin by the rotters and outlaws that she wondered if she hadn't lost sight of it altogether. It wasn't as easy anymore, nothing was really. Right and wrong, black and white.

Maybe she existed as both, treading somewhere in the gray. It was either that or drown in the abyss.

The man made his way to them, confidently and with purpose, wearing a pin-striped suit and blue tie. His posture was tall and perfect, just as Jane remembered it before they booked him for murdering his own brother.

Garrett Fairfield.

He immediately extended a soft, well-manicured hand.

"When I heard the good news I just had to come by and see for myself," he announced.

An awkward silence passed.

Jane's chilly reception tempered his wide smile and he lowered his hand.

"I'm sure you must be wondering how I'm here." He said it politely enough but all Jane could hear was condescension.

"More like wondering why you're not dead," she stated bluntly.

"Jane…" Maura whispered.

But her attention was locked on Garrett.

Maura observed Jane's profile, how her jaw line hardened and how a dark menace shadowed her features. She practically simmered in her own skin, like a caged animal. Jane was so fiercely beautiful like this - tall and righteous, creeping towards the edge of something dangerous. A rush of blood flowed up Maura's neck and much to her dismay, to other parts.

Upon sensing a threat, Jane would always protect her without fail or forethought of consequence.

Good for Maura but potentially very bad for Garrett.

She wished he hadn't come here. Before she even had a chance to converse with Jane! It was so typical of him, believing he could smooth everything over and make amends. It's what sophisticated people did, always more for their benefit than anyone else's. Such politics. Growing up, Constance Isles had tried to teach Maura the same song and dance, but she could never quite get the steps down.

As if reading her thoughts, he spoke again. "I can see that my coming here might have been a mistake."

"Why isn't this guy in jail?" Jane asked to no one in particular.

"Technically, I am!" Garrett joked airily.

"Really, asshole? Really? I'm not laughing," Jane spat.

"Jane, please," Maura quietly pleaded. She stroked her arm, trying to calm her.

Jane caught how Garrett's eyes subtly followed their contact and didn't like it. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a folded sheet of paper, then held it out to her.

"I handle room assignment, among other things. I came down here to give this to you personally. Welcome back, Jane."

She stared at him in disbelief, her irrational anger growing by leaps and bounds. He set the paper down on the hospital bed and in doing so, positioned himself gravely close to the imaginary bubble she had drawn around herself and Maura.

"Maura, I'll see you later?" He asked, careful to avoid any eye-contact with Jane.

Maura sighed and _really_ wished he hadn't said that.

Jane stepped away, jerking her arm out of Maura's hand, and stalked towards him. Garrett backpedaled so fast he stumbled over his own feet.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, arms raised in supplication. "Look, I'm sure Dr. Isles will explain everything to you soon enough. Things are very different now."

"I don't need you to tell me that, dickhead."

"I know I've made mistakes but I've changed," he offered.

"So have I," she seethed. Her ominous tone was unmistakable.

He dropped their eye-contact like a scolded puppy. Coward. Jane was done with him. He wasn't worth the energy it took to scare the shit out of him anymore, but it was fun while it lasted.

"In time, you'll see that I'm working to make up for my past. I've done a lot for this community since you've been…away," he said. God, would he ever just shut up and leave? "You'll see. Everything will be excellent. E plus excellent," he finished, optimistic.

Jane lost all her patience. _Who said shit like that?_

"Why don't you E plus eat me?"

"Jane!" Maura chastised.

Then her brother, previously content to be a fly on the wall, exploded with laughter. Jane smirked.

"Frankie!"

Unequipped to handle the crassness of Jane's barb, Garrett's mouth closed into a thin line. He nodded curtly and turned on his heels, his four hundred dollar shoes clicking meekly as they carried him out of the infirmary.

All three of them stood there for a beat.

Jane eyed Maura carefully. She was staring off in the distance, mouth slightly agape, no doubt trying to process what had just occurred. Maybe she wasn't mad.

Finally, she slipped off the bed and pointed to the spot she previously occupied, the thin mattress now slightly indented.

"You. Sit there and wait," she ordered. The doctor was in and Jane obeyed wordlessly.

Maura shot Frankie a disapproving look as she moved past him. He curled his grin between his lips in an attempt to regain his composure. His shoulders shook with the effort and a small snort escaped his nostrils.

Okay. So she was mad. Jane had some damage control to do, but she'd charmed her way out of worse. She kind of looked forward to it.

Maura sailed around the room, throwing on her lab coat, opening and slamming drawers, and gathering up all sorts of stainless steel tools that Jane didn't recognize. Jane's eyes widened and she briefly wondered if this routine examination might not turn into a dissection.

"Hey," Frankie whispered. She glanced at him, the sounds of Maura making her preparations clanging noisily in the background. "You're in so much trouble."

"Oh, shut up."

**_**···················**__**···················**__**···················**_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

><p><em>It had become something of a habit for Jane to conjure up images of Maura on her journey. They came in quick flashes, fragmented and heartbreaking - the perfection of her smile, the stroke of a hand, the melody of her laughter - bits and pieces that did little to fill the hole in Jane's heart.<em>

_Only in dreams did she find Maura complete, her presence tender and fulfilling._

_Jane lost track of how many times the sun rose and set, sacrificing sleep for safety, travelling in the shadows. The dreams came to her less and less and she feared what it meant; feared that her memories would fade away forever, swallowed up by a world she didn't recognize; a world that was doing its damndest to make sure there was room for little else other than survival. It cornered her at every turn, collapsing in on her from all sides until Jane, hungry and desperate and wild, lashed out to escape from its clutches._

_Jane made her choices and never looked back. Life, or whatever semblance was left of it, would be her reward and she soldiered on. A deadly woman in a deadly world._

_After that her dreams no longer brought her peace. Maura would come to her, beautiful and glowing. She would take Jane's hand and walk with her. Tell her that she loved her._

_Jane eventually woke from those bittersweet paradises, hot tears on her face, and knew deep down that she could not have them. Not anymore._

_Maybe that was her penance._

_Even so, she wished to dream every night._

_**···················**_

She watched Maura with a quiet curiosity as the other woman flipped the pages on a metal clipboard. Jane could tell that she was double-checking something or other, probably for the third time. Same old Maura. Her pen glided along the paper leaving a flawless, looping script in its wake. It hitched briefly upon reaching the "Name" line and then continued along its course.

It was so strange and beautiful to lay eyes on her again. Jane would have been happy to sit there for hours, taking in everything that was different, everything that was the same.

Her golden hair was swept back neatly in a ponytail, a few strands had come loose and fell over her cheeks in soft whisps. Her skin was flawless even without the cosmetics. Maura looked younger and less assuming. Approachable. Still ridiculously attractive, just in a simpler way.

_Damn._ Jane smiled inwardly to herself.

Only Maura could come out on the other side of a zombie apocalypse looking better than before.

In the past, Jane had been tempted to tell her friend that she didn't need the expensive make-up or the fancy designer clothes or all that other crap. In her opinion, it just got in the way of the stuff that really mattered. When she realized it sounded a lot like she just wanted to see Maura naked, she decided to keep the compliment to herself.

Lost in her observations, it startled her when Maura grabbed at the thin plastic curtain and pulled it around them. The ball-bearings scraped along the track making the hairs on Jane's arms stand on end. She had been looking forward to the moment when they could finally have some time to themselves.

Unfortunately, Maura had been administering some wicked silent treatment since the mess with Garrett. Jane could never stand it when she was upset with her.

"Come on. Don't be mad," Jane said sincerely, stopping just short of offering an apology.

The small detail was not lost on Maura. Details, after all, were her specialty.

"Look at me." Maura said, ignoring her as she passed a tiny flashlight over Jane's eyes. Her anger softened into concern, and she touched Jane's chin with her fingertips, the gentle pressure coaxing her to turn her face. "How did you get this? The cut on your temple."

Oh that. "I fell," Jane said.

"Is that all you want to tell me?"

"I fell on a rock. I think…"

Jane could be this way sometimes - purposefully obtuse, maddeningly vague. For now, Maura chose to let her have her way.

"This needs stitches," she sighed. "Did you lose consciousness when you 'fell on your rock'?"

"Maybe. I don't remember..." That kind of answered the question when she thought about it.

"I'm serious, Jane," she said frustrated. "You probably have a concussion."

"'Probably'? Are you guessing now, Dr. Isles?" Jane teased, knowing exactly which buttons to push.

"Yes, I am," she stated, not the least bit ashamed. "Unlike the deceased, the living have a tendency to either not reveal the extent of their symptoms or to lie about them." She carefully began cleaning the perimeter of Jane's wound with antiseptic and continued, "So I couple my observations with what may or may not be reliable information from my patients. I'm forced to guess all the time now. It's baffling really," and then she locked eyes with Jane. "Care to give me any insight as to why a patient might do that? Don't they want my help?"

The question stung more than the alcohol seeping its way into her cut. The honest answer was that she didn't know what she wanted anymore. Accepting Maura's help meant burdening her as well.

Maura didn't deserve that.

"Jane?" she asked. "Where did you go?"

Jane shifted her gaze and shook her head dismissively.

"It's nothing."

A flicker of resignation passed over Jane's face, so fast that most people wouldn't recognize it. Maura wasn't sure of what, but something had changed. This Jane, solemn and introspective, was so dichotomous to the one from moments ago; the one who nearly assaulted another human being for merely existing.

She stared at the tired brown eyes that would not look back at her, knowing there was only one reason Jane would keep secrets from her.

Jane stubbornly wanted to protect her. Same old Jane.

Maura couldn't keep her heart from swelling in its cage. A distant part of her knew it was unwise, that it could all end horribly again, but she was powerless to stop it. She'd loved Jane for so long she could hardly remember feeling any other way. She wasn't sure that there _was_ another way to feel about Jane.

Even in death, Maura had never stopped loving her.

She placed a tentative hand over Jane's heart, a heart she knew better than her own, and allowed it to linger there before gently pressing on her chest.

"Lie back," she instructed. Jane did as told and Maura reached for the small medical tray, rolling it to her side. "I need to flush out the cut and then I'll stitch you up, ok?"

"Okay," she replied, sensing a shift and letting Maura take care of her. "Think I'll have a cool scar?"

"Not if I have anything to do with it." The first hint of forgiveness played at the corner of Maura's mouth.

"That's too bad. Chicks dig scars," she smirked.

"Ahh, so that's what you've been up to."

"I've had a lot of free time."

Maura shook her head, her mouth crooked as if she were holding in a smile.

"After sustaining your injury, did you think the best remedy was to rub mud and debris into the wound?" She had been applying a steady stream of water to the cut for several minutes. "Goodness, Jane."

"So_ that's _why it feels so funny..."

Maura leaned in closer, scrutinizing her progress. "I know what you're trying to do and it won't work."

"I know not of that which you speak of," Jane said haughtily and grinned at Maura's visible disdain for her poor grammar.

"Well, now I am definitely sure you are suffering from a concussion," she said easily.

"You can't stay mad at me forever."

"No. No, apparently I can't." She smiled and Jane grinned in return.

After another inspection she must have been satisfied because she set the squirt bottle down and picked up a hypodermic needle and glass vial.

"I don't want any of that," Jane said warily.

"You don't want a local anesthetic?" She said slowly, eyebrows raised.

Jane shook her head, eyeing the bottle and syringe with trepidation.

"I highly recommend that you not bypass this step," she advised, but Jane just blinked at her. "It will be painful," she emphasized, her brow knitted with concern.

"I'll be fine," she assured. "I don't want my face to be half numb. Saggy half-face is not a look I'm going for."

"But Jane-"

"I'll be fine."

Reluctantly, Maura set the items in her hands back down on the tray. She turned to Jane as if to protest, then closed her mouth and went to grab the suture kit, then stopped and turned back to Jane, then stopped again and sighed. She was clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

It was the most adorable thing Jane had ever seen.

"Hey, stop thinking so much. I know it's lot to ask from you," she said and Maura gave a little eye-roll. "I can handle it."

"Okay. Okay fine," she repeated, more to convince herself than Jane. She tore open the suture kit and soon had the tiny, hooked needle positioned in a set of surgical tweezers. She leaned forward, her face close to Jane's. "Please stay very very still."

Maura settled herself and was deftly efficient in her work. The needle bit into Jane's skin over and over and she barely registered the sensation. If pain could be quantified, this was just a drop in the bucket.

Maura's hands were delicate and small and deceptively steady. There was never a wasted movement. Once upon a time, the two had joked about taking a go at the shooting range, and Jane knew her friend would be a quick study simply because of those hands.

Jane regretted never taking her. She regretted a lot of things.

She stared openly at Maura's face, going over every line and curve until her gaze drifted down to Maura's neck. She immediately noticed the one inch scar under her ear, just below her jawline. Jane frowned and before she knew what she was doing, brought her finger up to trace it.

"What happened?"

Maura's eyelids fluttered almost imperceptibly at the touch but she never stopped tying off stitches. They'd lost so much time. Anything could have happened.

"Did someone hurt you?" She asked and lifted her head to get a closer look. The scar on her own neck, the ones in her hands, all began to tingle.

"Jane, don't move," she chastised and then tied off the last suture. "No one hurt me." She finished up, wiping the area with gauze and asked again, "Did someone hurt _you_?"

"No, I told you I fell. I was running, lost my concentration, tripped, and fell," she said simply. It was true.

"Why were you running?"

"Chasing a runner's high." _ Liar._ Any further probing was cut-off by Jane's fingers smoothing over the scar again. "So you gonna tell me how you got this?"

"Shrapnel. The injury was minor."

"Shrapnel?"

"Yes," Maura brought her hand up and tangled their fingers together. "From an explosion."

"Oh," was all Jane could manage to say, blinking dumbly. She certainly wasn't expecting that.

Maura smiled gently. "Frustrating isn't it? To be given answers that leave you with more questions than you had before."

Touché.

"We match," Jane said, apropos of nothing, her voice hollow. There was no point in saying it, but she did it anyway.

"What was that?" Maura asked confused.

"Our scars. We match now. Who would have thought?" She said trailing off. She literally never thought about Hoyt once, his power over her having been replaced by something so much more awful. He was child's play in comparison and most likely eaten alive. Jane could only hope.

They fell into silence and Maura felt Jane receding to that place again, that dark pocket that had somehow formed in their separation. She wondered sadly if Jane's demons were anything like her own.

All Maura knew for sure was that she wouldn't lose her again. She would fight tooth and nail; she would die before letting that happen.

"Hey," she beckoned gently. Jane, a million miles away, instantly came back to her. Maura didn't know why that felt as good as it did.

"Sorry," Jane offered with a lopsided smile.

"Here." She pushed an object into Jane's hand and she unfurled her fingers to find a small mirror there. "What do you think?"

She sat up, marveling at the neat row of stitches in her reflection. It had taken five of them to pull her skin together again, the line of her cut perfect and seamless. Maura was right, she wouldn't scar this time.

The flat-side of a stethoscope was suddenly pressed against Jane's sternum.

"Deep breaths please," Maura requested.

Jane had to focus hard on the simple mechanics of inhaling and exhaling as Maura slid the disc all over the place, grazing the tops of her breasts. _Good God._ She slouched in relief when Maura drew her hand away only to jerk herself erect when Maura snaked her hand up her back, beneath her clothing.

Her heart was jackhammering.

Maura couldn't hide her amusement and laid a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"Jane, relax."

"Trying," she grumbled.

"Your lungs sound clear. That's good," she said brightly, repositioning the tiny drum. "You would be surprised at how many individuals come here with some form of respiratory ailment. Pharyngitis, pneumonitis, oh one child even had pertussis. Can you believe that?"

"Wow, fascinating," she lied. Jane could not give two shits. She tried to think about something else, anything else, and began counting the bricks in the wall.

"It is fascinating. Keep breathing for me. Deeper please."

_Jesus Christ._

Maura's fingers skimmed along her skin as she slid the stethoscope left to right, then back again and Jane stifled a groan. The last time anyone had touched her this intimately was long before the virus. She hoped to God her arousal was not as transparent as it felt and couldn't stop herself from glancing sideways at Maura. Her face was framed by the thin metal eartips of her stethoscope. She smiled innocently at Jane before dragging the disc slowly down her spine. Jane's skin erupted in goosebumps. _Fuck._ Those were definitely fingernails. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn Maura was deliberately drawing this out.

"All done," she said finally withdrawing her hand. "Your heartbeat is slightly irregular though," she added with a poorly hidden smirk.

Jane tried to casually roll the tension out of her shoulders and ignore what was happening below her waist. She cracked her neck for good measure.

"But I'll live?" she asked coolly, proud of her quick recovery.

"You will. Now strip."

Jane was knocked right back on her ass. She heard the words like radio static and did not comprehend. Maura removed her latex gloves with a snap and waited.

"Huh?"

"You. Clothes. Off," she gestured helpfully at Jane's body.

"Right…" Jane said meekly, unlacing her boots and kicking them off. Her mouth became a desert and she swallowed down hard. Was Maura just going to stand there and watch her? "At least buy a girl dinner first."

"Don't be so dramatic. And just down to your under things," she said with a seemingly passive face as Jane squirmed. "Please," she added politely.

Jane chewed on her lip and gathered the front of her jacket in her hands. This…this was gonna be bad.

"Are you gonna watch me the whole time?"

Maura cocked her head, a curious, unreadable expression on her face.

"Just turn around," Jane said, laughing nervously.

Maura arched one eyebrow playfully before reaching into her coat pocket to retrieve a pen. She clicked it, her eyes never leaving Jane, before finally turning away to busy herself with Jane's chart.

Jane looked skyward and exhaled. Slowly, she shed the jacket from her body. It was like time had crunched itself into her like an accordion and she couldn't ignore the damage anymore. Every fracture and tear, every bit of decimation that riddled her body flared to life as she pulled away the fabric covering it.

She was able to hide this from her mother. By some miracle, Frankie had the forethought to tell their mom that Jane had been holed up in a safehouse all this time. There was no sense in upsetting her. But soon Jane would be half-naked in front of the smartest woman she'd ever known. Maura would have questions, very hard questions, and she would want answers. For the first time in what felt like forever, Jane was standing still with no where to hide.

She desperately needed a distraction.

"So, tell me about Garrett," she said absently, pulling her top over her head.

Maura stopped writing but didn't turn around. "There's nothing to tell, Jane."

Bullshit. "Well, can you tell me why he's here?" Jane asked. Her tone was curious and lacking the venom she'd used earlier.

"It's a long story," she sighed. "But let's just say his connections helped to maneuver him back into society."

"Connections. You mean his money."

"Yes. Back when money still mattered." Maura was scribbling again. "It was a very bad time. News of the outbreak was widespread and people were getting sick. Almost every form of communication you can think of had broken down – internet, print, telephone. When you mix that in with the mass hysteria, you can see how someone like Garrett could take advantage of the situation and find his way out." She flipped a page and continued. "I'm not saying it was right and I'm certainly not saying that he shouldn't be brought to justice for murdering his brother. But…we don't have a judicial system anymore. Prisons are now our homes. As a species, we are nearly wiped out. With all that in mind, the President decided to issue a pardon to Garrett and others like him so that we could begin the process of rebuilding as soon as possible. It's over-simplifying things but so far it's worked out well."

"Super," Jane mumbled sarcastically, undoing the button on her pants. Her frayed-up henley and tank-top lay in a pile on the floor. "That still doesn't answer my question though."

"Are you almost done?"

"Almost," she replied, not sure if Maura was asking about her clothes or Garrett. "How come he's here? I mean, out of all the places he ends up _here_…" The subsequent "with you" was left unspoken.

"I don't know. That would be guessing."

"What happened to 'I guess all the time now. Patients are mean to me.'?" Jane toyed.

"That is not how I said it. And I only guess when I'm forced to."

"Does that same rule extend to lying?"

"Absolutely not!" Maura exclaimed, genuinely offended. She threw her pen down onto the paper for emphasis. "I feel like I'm being interrogated, _Detective_."

Ouch.

"Okay, okay, sorry. Geez." Jane pushed her pants down, wincing at the sharp pain in her torso. She kicked everything into a messy pile, then slid it off to the side with her foot.

"All done?"

"No! No, not yet. Don't turn around." She felt idiotic shooting her hands out to wave her off.

"Jane, why don't you just ask me?"

She didn't need to see her face to know Maura was smiling.

"Ask you what?"

"About Garrett. I feel like we've had this conversation before," Maura said patiently. "And if you take a moment and not let your emotions cloud your thinking, you already have the answer you want because I made my decision a long time ago."

"Oh," she breathed, her cheeks getting warm. A stupid little smile grew on her face.

"Are you finished now?"

"Yes. No, wait," she blurted and Maura sighed loudly. "If that's the case, then why does he look at you like that?"

"'Like that'? What does that even mean?" she asked exasperated.

"Like he wants you. I know the look."

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do," she said confidently and then thought about it...

"Interesting."

"I mean, guys are always throwing themselves at you," she said, sloppily covering her tracks. "I mean they did...before...uh, not that you don't get that now cause you're still…" God, now she was the rambler. "Bottom line is I don't like it. I don't trust him."

"We work together. That's it," she insisted. Jane didn't say anything. She was probably crossing her arms all skeptical. "Occasionally, we share a lunch…"

"God, Maura," Jane whined.

"We are just friends," she said and then amended it. "Not even that. We are more like co-workers. Workplace acquaintances who just happen to have a sexual history-"

"Stop," Jane interrupted and sighed. "That guy wants to get acquainted with more than just your lunch."

"Possibly but it doesn't matter. Please, give me a little credit."

"I do," she said, stepping forward anxiously. "I just get...concerned."

"I know you do. Thank you. Now no more stalling, I'm turning around," she announced.

"Maura."

Maura froze. Jane's low, raspy voice was hushed but she could feel it settle heavily on the nape of her neck.

"Whatever you do, don't freak out. Okay?"

"I don't understand," she said uneasy.

"Promise me you won't. I was out there for a long time. I had to…" Jane didn't know how to explain it. She imagined how she would react if their roles were reversed and immediately became discouraged.

"You forget I'm a doctor. Previously a medical examiner. I've-"

She was interrupted by Jane's hands squeezing her arms.

"Promise me."

"I…I promise," she said.

Jane released her and stepped back.

**···················****···················****···················**

Note: I know this is ending on a cliff-hanger of sorts, but I really didn't mean for it to. The chapter was just getting too damn long and I had to cut it off before it got ridiculous. I hope to post the next update soon. :)


	7. Chapter 7

****Chapter 7****

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><p><em>"You're leaving so soon?" Jane couldn't hide her disappointment.<em>

_"I'm afraid I have to. My flight departs at seven tomorrow morning." Maura had already slipped one arm into her coat. "Thank you for dinner."_

"_Sure…"_

_It was a strange feeling for Jane knowing that Maura would be gone for a week. Off to some conference about the nuances of taking apart dead people. Maura had given her the proper name for it at one point, but she'd forgotten it within minutes. She'd been too busy trying to convince Maura to have lunch with her._

_She watched from her kitchen counter, sickened by her growing co-dependence on this woman. Maura cinched the belt on her form fitting coat, pulling out the long blonde hair pinned under the collar. It cascaded around her shoulders and Jane tried not to imagine what it would feel like slipping between her fingers._

_She missed her already._

"_Jane." Maura stood at the front door expectantly._

_Right. She hurried over and after a long hug and quick kiss on the cheek, Maura was gone. The door clicked shut and she leaned against it, dejected. Seven days. Maybe she could take up a hobby. Or catch up on that obscure British TV show that Maura liked so much._

"_Jesus, Rizzoli," she muttered to herself._

_Just as she began to question her investment in their relationship, a flash of red caught her eye._

"_Crap."_

_She snatched the scarf off the back of her couch and raced out the door._

"_Maura!" she shouted. "Maura wait!"_

_She burst out onto the street just in time to see the tail lights of Maura's kickass Mercedes pulling away from the curb. She shouted her name again, waving the scarf in the air, but it was futile. The car receded into the distance then turned the corner, and she was gone again._

_Jane stood there still in her work suit, the damp concrete soaking through her socked feet. The scarf whipped gently in the breeze and she folded it carefully into her hands. No big deal, she thought. She'd just give it back later. She turned towards her apartment, studying the fabric as she made her way up the steps. Man, this thing was fancy. The woman really loved her accessories._

_Jane smiled and brought the silk to her face._

_Seven days and she'd be home._

__**···················**__

Jane was ready to jump out of her own skin. She wanted to fidget. To pick at her cuticles and chew on her lip and do any number of nervous habits she didn't realize she had given up. Her old habits had just fallen away. They were reveals - weaknesses that couldn't be tolerated. She'd convinced herself that she had no more weaknesses.

Then the sight of Maura nearly brought her to her knees.

Standing there stripped down to just a simple black sports bra and boyshorts, nearly every inch of her lay bare and open and raw; she'd forgotten what it felt like to be utterly vulnerable. To trust someone this much and not make them earn it.

At the present time, Maura had very different concerns. Her hand rested softly over her mouth, eyes brimming with something like horror and sadness. The pang in Jane's heart twisted like a knife at the sight.

This was precisely why she didn't want to do this from the very beginning.

Maura looked lost as her eyes moved over Jane's body, taking in a network of new marks that expanded across her torso. A particularly gruesome scar on her shin made Maura wonder how Jane survived it. Her attention inevitably settled on the bullet wound that felt newer than it was. That it was familiar and therefore comforting was disconcerting enough. The fact that it was the only wound that Maura recognized created an entirely new set of problems.

"Jane…" she finally choked out.

"I know," she followed Maura's gaze, looking down at herself. "But I'm fine. I'm here, that's all that matters."

Maura nodded absently, not believing a word. They stood a few feet apart and she reached out to touch the scar near Jane's ribcage. The last time she had done this Jane was still red and swollen, the thick gut of the sutures straining to hold the skin together. She didn't notice the tears welling in her eyes until everything went blurry.

"Maura," Jane said softly. "Please don't cry. You know it kills me."

Maura's fingers pressed tenderly into her skin, tracing the perimeter where the old met the new. The bullet had passed through Jane like she was nothing. It nicked the ridge between her seventh and eighth ribs, shattering the cartilage. The fragments had to be removed in surgery and she wondered if Jane knew any of it.

For a long time it had been the worst day of Maura's life.

She spent countless hours sitting at Jane's bedside, clinging to the hope that her eyes might one day open. With each day that passed, the chances of Jane regaining consciousness would diminish and Maura knew that statistically, the numbers were not on their side. She pushed away the cold reality of science and instead, envisioned their lives returning to normal.

Maybe even becoming something more.

She would have gladly stayed right there, suspended in the limbo of improbability, if it meant holding onto Jane. It wasn't the first time she had modified her behavior to suit her love and it wouldn't be the last.

In hindsight, her actions were just a preparation for the true hell that was looming.

The outbreak reached its tipping point at an alarming rate and like a wildfire, consumed everything in its path. It demarcated the world with bold, prejudiced strokes until the canvas was nearly blacked out, and Maura spiraled in a direction she never thought possible. There were too many moving parts even for her, and when she finally uncovered the truth it was too late…

Some days she couldn't even recognize the person staring back at her in the mirror.

When the rebels came for them, her team would escape through the chaos and find their way back to Boston only to find their city on fire. Every decision she made, every draw of her scalpel, every bloody compromise - they had all been for nothing.

But they had led her here. And now there was Jane.

_Jane._ Who had clearly been on her own path this whole time…

A quick glance at one of Jane's wrists and Maura felt a sharp tightening in her chest. It had faded but to her trained eye it might as well have been bleeding out all over her infirmary floor. Ligature marks. She'd been bound by something unforgiving, something other than rope. Wire maybe…

She suddenly felt nauseous and a single, terrifying thought festered in her mind.

"Maura, what is it?"

"Were you…" The question caught in her throat like a thorn but she _had_ to know. She touched Jane's wrist, her fingertip ghosting over the broken line of skin. "Were you captured at any point during-"

"No." Jane said firmly, piecing all the clues together. "No, I was never taken."

Relief washed over her and she slowly closed her eyes. The unshed tears finally broke through her eyelids and ran down her cheeks. She cursed at herself, knowing this wasn't doing either of them any good. A pair of weathered but tender hands settled on her cheeks and she opened her eyes to find Jane, full of compassion.

"You can't take what you can't catch." Her gaze lingered on Maura's cheek as she slid her thumb over it, catching the tears. "I've always been really good at running away from guys," she said with a slight grin. "I had so much practice avoiding my mom's blind dates."

That earned her a genuine smile. She could tell the lamest joke and Maura would always find her charming. Jane needed to make this easier for them. Like ripping off a bandaid, the sooner it was over the better, and her reticence gave way to humor.

"So we gonna do this or what?" she asked. Her hands dropped and she clapped them together once with feigned excitement. "You know how I love a good uh, probing."

"I hate to disappoint, but there will be no probing," she said but then added gamely. "Unless you would like me to."

Jane froze on the spot unsure of whether or not that was a joke, looking a tiny bit frightened but mostly intrigued.

_Goodness, this woman._

Maura, feeling a touch better, sniffled lightly and attempted some form of professionalism. "Well, it appears that your bullet wound healed without incident. No signs of infection. That is excellent considering your circumstances."

She put up a good front but didn't fool Jane. Her voice was so empty it broke her heart. Maura touched the scar again, then stepped around to examine the exit mark on her back.

Jane fought the urge to lean in and pull her into her arms.

"I'm sorry," she said, so low that Maura had to lean in to hear her.

"What?"

Jane placed her hand over Maura's and held it against her. She knew the damn thing would never completely heal for either of them. Arguably, it had changed the course of their lives.

"For this. It was…" she grasped for what she really wanted to say. "If I'd known what shitty timing it was to pull a stunt like that I would have figured out another-"

Maura cut her off, shaking her head. "Please don't. You don't ever have to apologize for that. I'm not sure if anyone else would have been so brave in the heat of the moment."

A rush of emotion suddenly filtered through Jane's senses and she broke their eye-contact briefly upon the revelation.

"Jane, what's wrong?"

She smiled, a wonder-filled, almost child-like smile. "Nothing's wrong. I just remembered something for the first time."

Maura blinked, waiting for her to continue.

"You were the last person I felt before…" she searched for the right term. "Before everything went lights out."

Maura considered this seriously.

"Memory loss is common after a traumatic event. Research suggests that it's possibly a coping mechanism to assist in recovery. Your gunshot wound and subsequent coma certainly qualify," she explained. Jane's bemused expression told her that she'd missed the point of her admission entirely. Her lips quirked into a tight smile as a small warmth grew in her belly. "Of course, fragmentary memory loss can be pieced together over time or uncovered through dialogue. You're right, I was there by your side. Perhaps our recent proximity triggered the memory."

"Yea," she agreed. "I mean with all the touching-"

"Clinical-type touching."

"Of course. Totally professional all the way."

Jane's sarcasm was in full force, but Maura couldn't really counter it without lying. "What else do you remember?"

Jane shrugged her shoulders.

"Honestly, not a whole lot. It's mostly general stuff. I remember Frankie dying and you saving him while I lost my shit. All I could think was that if I didn't get rid of Bobby, he was going to hurt someone else." Jane took in a deep breath through her lips. "So I did what I did and it hurt like a bitch and then, there you were. You tried to stop the bleeding didn't you? Someone pressed on the hole which hurt like hell, by the way, so thanks."

"My pleasure," she said dryly, trying not to think about how much blood Jane lost.

Jane narrowed her eyes as she sifted through her memories. "The sun was behind you. You blocked it when you leaned over me." Maura's blonde hair had fallen over her cheeks as she pressed into her with impossible force and then Jane passed out. "You said my name, told me to hang on, told me that I would be all right."

"For only having a general recollection, that is quite detailed," she said pleasantly.

"I have a small brain so I only hang onto the stuff that counts."

"I don't think that's true, Jane. While I've noticed that the diameter of your skull is possibly in the lower percentile for women of your height and weight, it's not significant enough to suggest microencephaly," she said, nodding supportively. "Small brain disorder."

She made a face and rubbed the back of her head. "Geez, I was joking."

"Oh…" Maura brought her free hand up to a sour Jane and affectionately touched her cheek. "That's not an official diagnoses, of course. I'd have to run tests to be sure, maybe even probe your brain."

"So I'd get probed after all?" Jane grinned.

"Possibly. If you wanted it. We'd have to schedule a follow-up appointment." Maura felt a tugging on her lab coat and realized it was Jane playing with the hem. Jane was _so tall_. She smelled lightly of grass and the night air. Her voice had somehow deepened even further sending a shiver through Maura.

"I think I need a second opinion. How do I know you're not trying to take advantage and fleece me?"

"Your concern is understandable, but my services are free. And if you didn't trust my opinion, it wouldn't have been so easy to get you out of your clothes."

There was a heated silence between them and Jane's hooded eyes widened slowly with her smile. That one definitely crossed some sort of imaginary line between them. If the lines even existed anymore. They certainly wouldn't hold up for much longer under this type of unabashed trampling.

It would have happened eventually. They both knew it. The infectious banter, the flirtation, the delicious tension - it was impossible not to get pulled into the game again. That it picked up again so quickly and so easily was something neither of them anticipated.

Maura blinked first. The raised scar tissue under her fingers refusing to let her float too far off the ground. She caught Jane with her gaze and held it; felt her sigh as her fingers lazily circled the scar once more.

"Jane, promise me you won't ever, _ever_ do anything like that again."

Jane's eyes darkened and she smiled wryly. The one thing Maura wanted the most and Jane couldn't give it to her.

"Doctor's orders?" she asked lightly.

"My orders," she clarified.

"Oh God, even worse." Jane teased, squeezing the hand in hers.

Maura frowned as something unfamiliar scratched over her knuckles. In lieu of everything, she'd not noticed the sheath of material over Jane's right arm until now.

"Jane, what…?"

"Oh. Um…" She'd forgotten about it because she never took it off. Hadn't for weeks.

"Are you injured?" Maura asked and immediately began pulling at the fabric.

Jane said nothing as Maura quickly discovered the bit of material tucked in on itself and began to unravel it. As the length grew and the cloth stretched out in her hand, realization crept over her features. The intricate pattern was worn down. Small tufts and strands popped out in random places where the stitching had been disturbed. Sharp creases were everywhere, the outcome of having been wound around the arm that carried it. She rubbed the silk gently between her fingers, knowing that the once delicate fabric had lost its quality some time ago. Maura could feel the sweat and dirt that filled its fibers now. The blood. Every inch of it filled with Jane.

Jane watched her solemnly, not knowing what to say. She was never good at this kind of thing.

"Do me a favor?" she asked.

Maura would have done anything. "Yes?"

"Tell me about this scarf."

Maura looked up at her, eyes wet, caught off guard by the request. Jane just smiled sadly and with a subtle lift of her eyebrows, urged her to speak.

"The material is one hundred percent silk, dyed using local berries and roots from the region where it was made." She continued to unwind the fabric from Jane's arm, folding it over itself into a squared stack in her hand. "The scarf is unique, a one-of-a-kind item made by a young female villager. A visiting aid worker had helped nurse the villager's daughter back to health, and as a show of gratitude was given this piece. It was unnecessary. Too kind, really." The closer Maura got to Jane's arm, the healthier the scarf seemed to get. "You see this pattern in the fabric?"

Jane had probably accumulated hours staring at it. "I've seen it."

"This curve here, and looping arcs extending out," she traced the design with her fingers, teasing the inside of Jane's forearm. "This denotes the village. And this geometrical shape within it is a family emblem. It is an intricate design and repeats itself through the length of the scarf. It probably took weeks to make this by hand." Maura sighed. "It was really…it was too much."

"You left it at my place. I always meant to give it back but I guess I forgot and you never asked-"

"I remember leaving it, Jane," she said.

"You do?" Of course she did. Maura didn't forget anything, especially when it came to her wardrobe. "Why didn't you ever..."

"I'm not sure," she said. Her open expression was truthful as could be. At the time, it just felt right. Why not let an honest lapse turn into a non-threatening gesture of…what? Friendship alone would never resonate so deeply in her. Maura's features went soft. "Maybe the reason I left it was the same reason why you took it with you."

Jane's heart did a flip-flop in her chest.

She dropped their eye contact, overwhelmed by emotions she couldn't quite handle. She was grateful when Maura read her body language, smiled quietly, and continued her work. The scarf began unspooling itself as she almost reached the end. After a couple more turns, the material fell away and she aligned the edges neatly before setting it on the tray.

The pressure marks held in Jane's olive skin like a beveling. Maura smoothed her fingers over them for no reason other than it felt wonderful just to touch her again.

"It was my good luck charm you know," Jane said, breaking the long silence.

Maura stopped believing in luck a long time ago. "Did it work?" she asked sadly.

"It did."

She nearly scoffed. One simple look at the body in front of her told a different story. She slid her fingers down to Jane's wrist, a mixture of frustration, anger, and love surging within her.

"I don't believe you," she said, her tone serious and challenging.

She gave the wrist in her hand a gentle tug and Jane hesitated before stepping forward. They both straightened their posture and stared at each other as a familiar, intense spark flared to life in their chests. Goose bumps instantly prickled under her touch and Maura suppressed the grin that sprang up. She already had the advantage.

Jane could fight her on it all she wanted, but Maura would have answers.

One way or another she would get them.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

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><p>When she wanted to, Maura knew exactly how to play Jane.<p>

A surprisingly firm hand pressed against Jane's stomach and everything tightened. The scars tickled Maura's fingertips like a secret language. She could feel the unevenness, the raised welts of her angry marks. Jane's skin used to be so perfect…

"It doesn't feel like you had any luck at all out there, Jane."

She moved her hand along the expanse of her abdominal muscles and felt them ripple to life under her touch.

Jane swallowed hard and felt unnaturally hot. She had gone months without even thinking about sex - too busy running and scraping and living like a god damn animal. Purposefully leading a solitary existence required discipline and control and Jane had made herself untouchable.

A prisoner in her own wretched body.

Now Maura was quietly obliterating all of Jane's defenses with a pair of soft hazel eyes and a warm hand that continued to go wherever it damn well pleased.

Boundaries were never their strong suit. If Jane had been on her game, she would have anticipated this. It was way too late for that now and despite her best efforts not to, she groaned.

"Am I hurting you?" Maura asked innocently.

"Ah, no. Just…just ticklish," Jane managed.

"I'm sorry," she said and Jane had some serious doubts about her sincerity. "I'll go slower."

_Jesus Christ._ "Do you, uh, do you do this a lot?"

"Not as often as I'd like," she said distracted, literally, by the task at hand.

Jane cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.

"What I mean is that we don't get many new intakes. Thirty-nine total so far, including you," she said smiling slightly. "You're the only one who has been brought in alone, which I find interesting." Her touch turned light and teasing. "You're dehydrated," she observed, pinching the skin gently in her fingers. "After this is over, we'll get you some water."

Jane mumbled incoherently in agreement.

"Unless you need something now. Are you thirsty?"

Parched. Jane reckoned it had less to do with her travels and more to do with an increasingly curious, blond haired doctor. Her throat bobbed and she shook her head without a word.

Maura took a step back and Jane could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped with it. Breathing normally suddenly wasn't so hard anymore and the thudding in her chest subsided. She blinked a few times, still quite hazy with arousal, then felt Maura's hands go under her elbows to lift her arms out. Jane complied like a ragdoll.

Maura had long been an admirer of the human form and Jane's was no exception. She could appreciate the sinewy cut of her muscle fibers just beneath the skin. They were wiry and tensile, the muscle groups differentiating themselves where they came together - the deltoid interlocking with the triceps and bicep, each taut bundle standing out in stark contrast to the other, and yet flowing together to form a nearly perfect specimen.

"Only you…" Maura said with a bit of wonder as she slid her hands over the strong shoulders in front of her. Her fingers rose and fell, guided by the defined musculature forming Jane's biceps.

"Huh?" she asked.

"While I expect a certain degree of weight loss with all our intakes, only you could actually manage to build lean muscle in an environment which offered you very little resources. You appear to be incredibly fit." Maura gently squeezed her arms and was met with a hard resistance that sent a thrill through her.

Jane cleared her throat. "Well, I've been going to the gym a lot," she said casually.

Maura let her laughter go and for a brief moment they were back in Boston. A whisper of nostalgia and then a flash of Jane, standing tall in her Tuesday shirt with that devilish smile, looking at her fondly…

Kind of the way she was looking at Maura now.

Her dark eyes squinted with her smile and Maura couldn't help but stare at Jane's face. It was striking, almost exotic, and so different from her own. She'd thought of it often, redrawing every angle and slope in her mind's eye distinctly, as if Jane had never been gone.

"You don't look so bad yourself." Jane said it sweetly, her voice hushed like it was some secret between the two them.

The compliment was unexpected. The words coming from anyone else would have gone ignored but coming from Jane, they coated Maura like honey and she found herself disarmed.

She felt a flutter in her chest and for a split-second, forgot what she was trying to do.

"Come here," she said.

Jane dropped her arms numbly and took a small step forward, eliminating most of the space between them again. Maura stared at her calmly, her unreadable expression making Jane nervous.

"You have new scars."

"So do you," Jane said, trying to put up a fight.

"Not like these." Her fingers were at Jane's skin again, travelling over her torso for emphasis. "You and I are going to have a talk about these."

Jane considered it and felt her insides recoil.

"And if I told you I didn't want to?" Her words faltered slightly in the face of Maura's obvious determination.

"Then I would ask you why."

"Just because…"

At that, Maura pursed her mouth into a thin, annoyed line. Jane's reason was unacceptable and she knew she would have been better off saying nothing at all.

This was ridiculous.

Twelve hours ago she'd taken out three rotters with nothing but a knife and had barely broken a sweat in the process. By Jane's estimations, that pretty much made her a badass.

So why in the hell did she feel like she'd lost this battle before it even began? Physically, she had the advantage. Even barefoot, Jane was still taller than Maura and she peered down into her eyes, searching her face for some clue as to how far she was willing to take this. What she found there unnerved her and for the hundredth time since they'd begun this "routine examination" Jane told herself it was a terrible idea.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way." Maura said simply.

Jane straightened her back and narrowed her eyes with her chin up. The tendons in her neck twitched involuntarily.

The hard way then.

Maura's fingertips traced over Jane's skin, going from scar to scar, connecting the dots – a constellation of vicious marks that had not been given proper treatment. Maura had seen similar wounds on the bodies in her morgue. The damage ended somewhere beyond the waist of her underwear and faded into the smooth expanse of Jane's thigh.

"Maura…" Jane tried but couldn't quite tame the shakiness in her voice.

"Your wound pattern is evenly scattered but random…" Her hand glided over Jane's heaving ribcage, the fingers splayed out, and then headed south until she met the resistance of her underwear. She heard the other woman take in a sharp breath.

A fine sweat had broken out on Jane's face and her eyes widened as the tip of Maura's tongue moistened the corner of her perfect mouth. It just wasn't fair.

_Last chance._

Sometimes Jane was too stubborn for her own good.

"Evenly scattered…" she repeated, then boldly pushed her hand past Jane's waist and over the jut of her hipbone, dragging the elastic of her shorts with her. A sharp jolt of arousal coursed through Maura, and she knew she'd made herself wet even as her heart ached. She could still feel the scars and finished with her voice noticeably weaker. "…a wide pattern, otherwise known as scattershot. Consistent with a high powered fire arm such as a shotgun."

"Maura stop." Jane grabbed her wrist, almost painfully, and pulled it away.

They were breathing hard, sucking in air that was charged with secrets and longing. Jane closed her eyes and swallowed a huge lump in her throat. Maura glared defiantly right through her.

"A shotgun, Jane?" She didn't want to believe it. The tingling pressure on her wrist vanished as Jane dropped her hand. She looked at Maura apologetically. "Why are you being this way?"

Jane thought about it and her shoulders slouched in real misery. She took in a few measured breaths. A dull pounding had returned to her temple and she rubbed at her forehead.

"Stop that," Maura sighed, batting at Jane's hand. "Your stitches."

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Needing a little distance to gather her thoughts, she backed up until her legs bumped into the hospital bed behind her, then scooted herself onto it. It was pointless as Maura was immediately in her face again.

"You're going to tell me." She wasn't asking anymore.

"Jesus Christ you fight dirty."

There was a glint in Jane's eye, and she made no attempt to hide what she was alluding to as she re-adjusted the waistband of her underwear.

"That was nothing." She sounded almost mean.

"Good to know," Jane mumbled, squirming slightly at the newfound throbbing between her legs. "Look, they're just scratches," she said lamely.

"Scratches?" Maura repeated, her eyebrows rising almost comically. "Is this a scratch too?" Below Jane's kneecap lay another mark, jagged like a lightning bolt. At least six inches long, the gash must have been deep, possibly to the bone. Maura touched it carefully as if it had been put there yesterday. "This had to have been excruciating, Jane."

It had been. All of it had been. It was hard to go back to that place when all she wanted was to be here now with Maura, who was standing so close that Jane could smell her shampoo.

"Let me guess – you fell?" Maura ventured.

Sarcasm. Nice. "Technically, I did fall." Her mouth quirked and she cocked her head. "Eh, more like a drop…" Jane's eyes went upwards in thought as she worked out the dynamics of her injury. She'd learned so much since making that particular choice.

"Jane, you are one of the most agile, physically gifted individuals I've ever known. I find it difficult to believe you spent over a year out there, fumbling your way to-"

"It's been a year?" Jane interrupted, genuinely surprised. She'd gotten so used to not knowing the exact day or time, letting the sun and clouds dictate her travel.

Maura blinked. "It's July 16th."

"July…" she mumbled, her brow creased.

Maura could see the wheels turning in her head. "Three hundred and eighty days," she said, doing the math for her. "You shot yourself three hundred and eighty days ago. The hospital would be destroyed approximately ninety days later. At some point between then and now you woke and made an interesting journey for yourself."

"Holy shit," she said.

"It's been a long time." She took Jane's hands into hers. "I mentioned before that you're the only one who has come to the base alone. It may not seem odd to you but it is highly atypical. Everything about your exam has been atypical."

"Unless you're this handsy with all your intakes, I can see why."

"Will you be serious for just one minute? I've documented all kinds of minor injuries, but everyone was largely unharmed. There is safety in numbers so people stay in groups for survival."

"I tried that," Jane sighed. "It's overrated."

Maura ignored her commentary. "People group up, find some type of safe harbor, and then they stay there. Yes, the landscape is overrun with outlaws and the undead, but the population is spread out. Finding a suitable shelter and fortifying it can greatly increase the chances that you survive until you are found."

"So what? What I did it wrong?" Jane sputtered out defensively.

"Jane no. No." She said frustrated. "I'm saying you did it differently and you still survived. If you have truly been alone this entire time, believe me when I tell you that your methods were unique."

"Yea well unique doesn't always mean good," she sighed.

"Explain that to me."

Jane fell silent again and went still as a stone save for her shallow, even breaths. Maura sighed. Jane's hands rested limply in hers. Dirt was trapped under every nail and Maura could feel out the hard calluses and the thick knot of scar tissue that stamped the center of her palms. Jane didn't even bat an eye when she got near them.

Maura leaned in close and felt Jane gravitate towards her.

"You hesitate because you're afraid of what I'll think," she whispered. "I'm no fool, Jane. I understand the threats that lie outside these walls. I know what it takes to overcome them."

Jane felt the tip of Maura's nose graze against her forehead and closed her eyes tightly. A soft kiss was pressed over her hairline.

"Do you remember the last time we did this?" Maura continued, her voice thick with emotion. "It didn't turn out so badly, did it?" Her thumbs stroked the center of Jane's palms.

"This is different, Maur."

"Try me."

Jane glanced down at the pristine white lab coat that Maura wore. It was a half size too big for her and bunched slightly around her shoulders and arms. She brought her hand up to one of the lapels and pinched the fabric between her fingers and thumb. The threading was stiff and uniform. Clean.

"I bet…" She began and then paused as her chest closed up on her. "I bet you're a _really_ good doctor."

Maura's heart dropped a little. "I try to be."

Jane smiled internally at her modesty. The truth was most people could spend their entire lives working to achieve goals that Maura could accomplish in her sleep. "Trying" for Maura was astonishingly close to perfection.

"You ever save anyone's life?"

"On a few occasions, yes."

"You saved Frankie's life. I never thanked you for that."

"To be fair, you never had the opportunity," she smiled.

A knowing expression flickered across Jane's face and she squeezed Maura's hand. "Thank you. I'll never be able to repay you for what you did."

"Jane…" She was serious now and exhaled a ragged sigh. "Can you imagine for one moment how it felt for someone like me to lose someone like you? Do you have any idea?"

Jane had missed her something awful. She'd left hundreds of miles behind her and with every step she'd missed this woman. She told herself she'd go as many miles as it would take to find her because dammit, _Maura was out there somewhere_. As focused as she was, she never considered what she would do if the light at the end of her tunnel were to be extinguished.

Now, Maura looked absolutely haunted, like she'd closed so much pain inside herself she couldn't hold anymore and it seeped out everywhere.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks and Jane felt like a complete asshole.

"Maura, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She felt worthless saying it.

"I don't want your apologies and I don't need your gratitude." She took Jane's face gently into her hands and met her eyes. "I just want you back."

Jane couldn't help leaning into the touch. "You might not if you knew the things I've done. You're a doctor now, an honest to goodness damn doctor. You help people, make them better. God, for every person you've saved I've probably…"

Her words ended abruptly and Jane nearly flinched at her thoughts.

"Is that what you think?" Maura slid one hand down her cheek, the edge of her thumb grazing the side of her mouth. It settled on her neck, almost possessively, and she brushed over the matching scar there. "How can you be so sure? We're not so different, you and I." Maura fought the bitter smile on her face. "I think you'd be surprised."

It was obviously bait but Jane couldn't resist taking it.

"So….what… You tell me yours, I tell you mine?"

"Nice try. You show me yours first, then I show you mine."

They both grinned like idiots at the Freudian slip.

Maura took in a shaky breath and exhaled sharply. "You know what I meant."

Jane opened her mouth, ready to fire off a smartass remark, but lost her voice when Maura's fingers pressed into the tense muscles of her neck, gently kneading them. It felt _so _good.

An appreciative sigh fell from her lips and Maura knew she'd won.

"You're never gonna let his go, are you?" Jane breathed.

"I won't. I'm very persistent," she said. "And very skilled. Challenging me would be unwise."

Jane's lips were slightly parted as her jaw went slack in relaxation. Maura dug almost uncomfortably into her flesh as she worked away the knots.

"You tryin' to bribe me with your magical fingers?"

"Jane, if I wanted to bribe you I'd use a very different incentive. One that I dare say you would find much _much_ more enjoyable."

Jane visibly stiffened. That got her attention.

Maura's gaze lingered on Jane's mouth before she looked her in the eyes and tilted her head.

"When was the last time you had coffee?"

Jane's eyes lit up. "Are you shittin' me?"

Maura just smirked and took her hand.

"Come on."

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	9. Chapter 9

**Rating:** M

**Notes:** Rough and tumble! This chapter and probably the next will be flashback chapters (can you say flashbacks within flashbacks? Oy.). I'm only indicating that here in the notes, not in the story, so I hope nobody gets confused.

**Warning**, there is dark content and violence in this chapter and possible rape triggers for some. It's not _gratuitous_, but it's there. If that isn't your thing, you can skip this one and it won't affect your understanding for the rest of the fic.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

* * *

><p>"<em>Can I open it?"<em>

"_Of course you can," Maura said, a tiny smile lifting her features._

_Jane set her bottle down on the granite counter top and reached for the rectangular object. Silver paper covered it on all sides and a white ribbon adorned the body, bisecting it perfectly in two. She was having a little difficultly tearing off the paper with one hand. Maura stood there patiently, knowing Jane would not take kindly to any assistance._

_Apparently, Jane could do everything on her own._

_Such as kick down the door of an abandoned structure to pursue a fleeing suspect, paying no mind whatsoever to the fact that backup had not yet arrived. Maura tried to keep a neutral face as she eyed the sling that supported Jane's other arm._

_She'd gotten lucky. A hairline fracture in her collarbone was the only consequence of her actions - that and apprehending the killer. According to Jane, that's all that mattered in the end. They could all go home and sleep soundly._

_The decorative wrapping eventually gave way to Jane's searching fingers and she looked down thoughtfully at the object._

"_The Art of War."_

"_It's my own copy. I think you would enjoy it."_

"_What makes you think I haven't already read it?" Jane asked._

"_I've scanned your bookshelves."_

_They smirked at one another._

_Absent was the glass of wine that would normally be in Maura's hand. She just wasn't feeling it on this particular night. She moved around the island to be closer to Jane, to study her face as she read the jacket liner._

_Her detective smiled indulgently. "This have something to do with today?"_

"_No…" Maura attempted and then felt an icky pressure building around her lungs. "Not entirely. Do you like it?"_

"_Yes. Thank you." Jane answered resolutely. Maura would have to be satisfied with that for now._

"_Good. There are notes in the margins." Then she gestured to Jane's clavicle. "May I?"_

_Before Jane could even nod her permission, Maura was reaching for the sling to carefully loosen it and ply her arm free. When Maura's fingers went to unbutton her shirt, Jane grabbed her beer and took a drink. Maura undid one button, then another, and the kitchen was way too quiet._

"_What no foreplay?" She joked with a shaky grin and another tip of the bottle._

_Maura didn't look up._

"_If those were my intentions, I wouldn't be starting with your shirt."_

_Jane choked painfully on her beer, coughing in gasps as Maura patted her back._

___**···················**___

She'd been dreaming when the cold barrel of a gun pressed against her forehead.

In the darkness she could only make out a lumpy figure. He had invaded her small campsite and Jane had slept obliviously through the entire thing. She was that exhausted.

"Don't move or I'll blow your fuckin' brains out."

He needed mouthwash badly. Her eyes were already adjusting to the night and she could see the puffs of cold air that accompanied his words. All Jane could think was that this didn't make sense; she should have been days ahead of these guys.

Long months had passed and she'd found nothing but infestation and decay. Jane's growing impatience had gotten the better of her, muddled her judgment, and she hastily cut a path through an open field rather than stick to the safety of the surrounding tree line. Halfway across, a gang of outlaws emerged from the forest and stopped her in her tracks. She crouched in the tall grass but it was too late. They'd begun their pursuit and she darted through the woods. After three days of hard running, Jane was certain she would be off their radar soon. They must have had a very skilled tracker among them. The group was at least eight and yet this man was alone.

"Get up," he ordered. She barely made a move when a hand on her neck applied an uncomfortable level of pressure to her artery. "Slowly."

The days were chilly but bearable. The nights however would turn bitterly cold. Jane slept under her blanket with her knees against her chest, arms wrapped around, and nose buried in the crook. The figure backed away and after a deep breath, she very slowly unraveled herself. He probably didn't want her on her feet so she leaned against the felled tree that made up part of her shelter. The shadow standing over her came into focus. The crescent moon hung over them in the sky, its fractured light more than enough for Jane to gather the vital details.

.45 held steady in his right hand, semi-automatic rifle, no blade that she could see, a backpack, five foot ten…

And nightvision goggles. Dammit all to hell. They were able to move at night. Still a stupid move no matter how well you could see. They must have wanted her badly.

"Toss your weapons. All of them, don't be cute. Then keep your hands where I can see them." The voice was deep. Calm.

Jane divested her body of her knives and guns, throwing them off to the side, then rested her hands on her bent knees. Her new vulnerability seemed to relax him, and he squatted down to go through her bag. Jane noticed his clothes were ill fitting and baggy. He was probably pretty thin under all that weaponry.

He mumbled words she didn't understand, sloppily dumping out her food, keeping her pills and matches. She held her breath, praying that he might miss a few items in her pack. The gun remained trained on her, pointing directly at her chest. Could she disarm him now? Not allowing the damn thing to go off would be key. She furtively measured the distance between them, the angle of his position versus her own, the vulnerable points she would need to strike… Her muscles began to twitch with the anticipation.

Before she could decide on anything, he popped open a waterproof container and sneered at the contents.

"Everyone always has pictures. What's the point? They're all dead." Jane didn't know why he was bothering to go through them then. He held one up so she could see it. "This your family?"

Jane stared straight ahead, her face a mask of indifference to his questions. Talking would only gift him with her weaknesses or worse, her strengths. He waited a beat. When she didn't answer, he shrugged and flicked the photo back into the box.

"Cute dog…probably dead too…" He murmured shuffling through the small pile.

Then he paused and his lips parted into a sinister smile. With the goggles on, he resembled one of those mad villains that Jane might have seen in Frankie's old comic book collection.

"Guess you wouldn't know where this one is, would you?"

He turned the photo to her but Jane refused to acknowledge it. She didn't have to. It was the picture of her and Maura, she knew it was.

Slogging through week three of mandatory desk duty, Jane had been in a foul mood when it was taken. Frost had purchased a shiny new digital camera for himself and fiddled with the damn thing every day, the constant clicks and beeps and whirs getting on her last nerve. Despite all of Jane's bitchiness, Maura would bring her coffee nearly every day and Frost insisted on snapping the photo. Jane silently protested by pretending she didn't hear him.

But when Maura's gentle arms wrapped around her waist, it felt only natural to drape her one good arm around her shoulders and be a good sport about it all. Jane didn't even know she could smile that big until Frost showed it to her the following week. They looked every bit like they belonged together, and Frost raised a teasing eyebrow when she requested a copy of it, right on the spot.

It was a good memory, but with every good memory came the inevitable pain. Nothing would ever be the same anymore, a fact that she was acutely aware of, and sometimes Jane wished she'd left it behind.

But who was she kidding?

Just the thought of it triggered emotions Jane didn't need to feel. Looking at it now would surely reveal something to this creep that Jane didn't want him to know.

"Who is she?"

Silence.

"Not your sister... Cousin? Best friend?"

More silence.

"Girlfriend?" His tone was lecherous. "Oh, the things I'd do to her."

They were only words but Jane was unable to ignore them. The last thing she needed to think about was Maura, but now it was the only thing she could think about. Maura…in the hands of someone like this…

She couldn't stop her fingers from digging into her knees and crumpling the fabric of her pants. He watched with a twisted satisfaction as her reactions betrayed her, then grinned and pocketed the photo.

"For later."

The blood in her veins turned to venom and in that moment, hate was not a strong enough word for what she felt. If she could get one bare hand on him, _just one_. She'd rip his jugular out with her own damn teeth if she had to.

Then he found it and Jane wanted to curse the world. There in his grubby little fingers was her detective's badge. So much for that particular element of surprise, she thought. He waved it at her and tsked.

"Keeping secrets? I thought we were friends."

He reached for something in his belt and produced a pair of handcuffs dangling from his fingers.

"Sure you're familiar with how to use these," he said tossing them into her lap. "Put them on."

_Fuck._

She hesitated before slipping them on silently. The metal teeth clacked into place, shackling together her two remaining weapons. She clinked her wrists apart to show him they were on good and tight. Brimming with confidence, he stood to remove the rifle hanging from his shoulders and even turned his back on Jane to grab one of her knives.

"Here's what's going to happen." He crouched down to one of her boots and began sawing at the laces. She kept her knives razor-sharp and without much effort, he split them right up the center. "You and I are going to party for a little bit. Don't even think of running or screaming." He grabbed her boot and yanked it off. "Well, scream if you want, but it'll just make all sorts of things come running and they're not as nice as I am."

Jane didn't hear a word he'd said, too busy scanning her surroundings for any means of escape. God damn badge! Why did she have to be so fucking sentimental? She needed her hands, she needed something. She began to tremble, the tension in her stomach threatening to rip her in two, and she knew she was panicking.

Then the gun wavered in his grip.

Jane's eyes instantly locked onto the barrel like a laser. It was small, but it was the precious opening she'd been waiting for. Her other boot laces popped as he cut them open, the leather stiffly peeling away. She drew in a long breath and inverted her foot slightly, enough to make him have to tug twice. The gun dipped a few inches.

In a flash, the metal of her handcuffs connected with the joint of his hand and the weapon flew from his grasp. It skidded across the forest floor, displacing pine needles and bits of earth. He rose up only to buckle, screaming in agony as Jane brought her heel firmly down into his knee. She could actually hear the tendon snap. He fell forward and she kicked up, her booted foot connecting directly with his face. The force drove the goggles into his eyes and shattered his nose before flying off his head. Jane twisted nimbly to avoid the knife in his hand and the blade disappeared harmlessly into the dirt beneath them. He came down on her with a thud, dazed but not unconscious.

She put everything into bucking her hips, trying to maneuver him off of her, but it was useless. He'd landed too high on her body and straddled her rib cage. _Ugh._ Night-blind and frantic, he grabbed at her to try and catch a limb, but Jane was much too fast for him and stronger than she looked. The back of her knuckles cracked against his chin but from this position, they were sorely lacking in power.

A heavy blow fell through the darkness and caught Jane square on the cheek. She knew she was stunned, felt something warm and sticky...was it her blood or his? Another one followed and she was seeing stars.

The edges of her world started blacking out.

_Jane was nervous, couldn't stop asking questions. She had every right to be when a beautiful woman was running her fingers along her chest._

"_It's not that bad right? What do you think? How long you think they'll keep me chained to a desk?"_

"_No, it's not that bad. I think you got lucky. And I don't know Jane, possibly four to six weeks," she answered. Maura caught her with her gaze. "You understand you were very fortunate, don't you? Anything could have happened when you went through that door alone."_

_She would have shrugged if it didn't hurt so badly. Instead she stood there quietly, eyes down, unsure of why she felt like she owed Maura an explanation._

"_How does it feel when you breathe?"_

_Jane took a deep breath…_

"Bitch, you're dead!"

Her head felt like a grenade had gone off inside it. Even blinking hurt. It took a few seconds of easy breathing for Jane to realize his weight was gone. He had rolled off of her to crawl towards the gun, his crippled leg dragging pitifully behind him.

She scrambled after him, each movement shooting arrows of pain through her skull. He kicked at her as she clambered over his legs and in no time at all, Jane had his back. He bit and snarled wildly with retaliation as her fingers clawed at his face, digging into his eyes and nostrils. _Shut up, shut up, shut up…_ Finally she jammed her wrists down hard, slipping the chains of her handcuffs across his throat and reared back with every ounce of strength she had. He struggled to break free. Jane shifted her knees onto his spine and welcomed the additional leverage. She imagined he was bent back at quite an unnatural angle and hoped it hurt like hell. Her forearms shook violently with the effort, arms burning from exertion, and she crossed her wrists to pinch him even tighter. The unfinished metal tore through her flesh but there was no pain, only the vague sensation of something warm soaking into her sleeve.

The life wheezed out of him with every second and Jane knew that in less than thirty, he would be gone. He flailed weakly, gasping, no longer fighting her but fighting for air. This would be her first human kill. Even Paul she had let go and Jane wondered if that hadn't been a mistake. Maybe he was out there right now doing to some poor woman what this man had tried to do to her. Would Maura be able to fight off an attacker like this one? Her jaw clenched at the thought. A sob caught in her throat, transforming itself into a hateful growl that hissed and spit through her grinding teeth.

Then he went limp.

Jane held the tension a few more moments, just to be sure, before dropping him to the ground. His lifeless body hit the earth with a hollow thud and Jane, sapped of strength, nearly fell with him.

Their scuffle had caused all sorts of ruckus, enough that any rotters roaming within fifty yards would have heard. Possibly even an outlaw. At least the gun had not been fired. She listened for sounds of any kind. Anything that would indicate she had been detected. Hunched over and shivering, she waited in silence over her kill to see if the monsters would come get her.

__**···················**__

Jane tightened her boots and tried to ignore the metallic smell wafting up her nostrils. The laces were a little long and she double wrapped them around her ankles. Her adrenaline had long since faded and she was beginning to feel the effects of the melee. Pain everywhere, especially in her head. Her cheek was starting to swell and her left wrist already bled through the gauze she hastily spun around it. Maura's scarf had spared her right wrist from any similar damage.

After a quick pat-down, she retrieved the pills and supplies he'd taken from her. Her hands wandered over a large bulge in his back pocket and found what looked to be a wallet. It was leather, thin and warped. It obviously held all sorts of things at one point, credit cards, business cards, money. It sadly kept the shape of all those things but was quite empty now.

Jane stared at it for a long time before flipping it open.

Pictures. A wife. Two children. Someone else, maybe a sister. All smiling back at her.

She slapped it shut and threw it down. Her head dropped into her hands, palms pressed hard against her eye sockets.

Tears welled in her eyes and she didn't know why. She had been left with no choice, hadn't she? The man she killed was no longer the man in those pictures. With or without the bite, he'd mutated into something evil - something worse than a rotter. There was no way both of them were gonna live to see the morning. It would be her or him. She did what she had to do. And yet Jane couldn't shake the malaise that festered in the center of her chest. An odd sensation to say the least, like she was too far from home and had left something important behind.

She'd never taken any pleasure in destroying the rotters. If she could live the rest of her life and never have to kill another, it was fine by her. But this man…if the others had been lined up behind him, well…

Jane would gladly put bullets in peoples' heads rather than blast holes through their hands. _Easily_.

A bitter smile grew on her face. She wondered what Maura would think of her and as thoughts of Maura often went, Jane immediately wondered if she was safe.

She started feeling over the body again and roughly shifted him around to reach into his front pockets. The stiff corner of the photo pricked her finger. It was slightly crinkled now, but not much worse for wear. A day's travel pressed between the pages of a book would restore it. She drew her fingers down the photo once, passing over Maura's image, her smile so beautiful it hurt just looking at it.

"Am I ever gonna find you?" Jane whispered.

She allowed herself a few more moments before she put the photo back safely with the others. She glanced up at the sky to find that the black tapestry of the night had turned to a midnight blue. A couple more hours and it would be light enough out to travel. But how far could she possible make it before the others caught up? Most likely not even a day.

Her clear eyes dropped down to the corpse at her feet. She needed to work quickly if she were to have any chance.

It was her or them, and Jane was done running.

__**···················**____**···················**____**···················**__

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><p><em>I should just stop apologizing for the long periods between updates cause I keep doing it and eventually it will just come off as insincere. lol All I can do is promise to work on this series as diligently as I can. Because I am you guys. I am.<em>

_Next chapter is already written and nearly finished editing so there is that. :)_

_Oh and thanks so much to everyone who has taken the time to leave feedback for me. It chicken soup for the writer's soul!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Rating:** M

**Notes:** A direct follow-up to what happened in Chapter 9. I'll be honest, I feel bad doing this to Jane. Since I started this AU, it's always how I imagined her ending up. I was tempted to change it, but in the end, went with what I originally envisioned.

**Warning** - again, there is violence in this chapter and possible rape triggers for some. It's pretty mild, but it's there.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

* * *

><p><em>All warfare is based on deception.<em>

_When able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near._

_Hold out baits to entice the enemy._

_Feign disorder, and crush him._

_To know your enemy, you must become your enemy._

_- Sun Tzu, the Art of War_

____**···················**____

They crept silently as a unit, footsteps muffled by the dank forest floor. The atmosphere was thick with humidity, and a heavy blanket of morning dew coated every surface of the forest as the vegetation flattened easily beneath their boots. Their leader raised a meaty arm and the men with him halted. Their target was twenty yards ahead.

Two fingers motioned forward and they proceeded quietly, following the alpha's every move. Soon. Very soon.

He was right pissed to find that their tracker had left without them in the middle of the night. He had his uses, but the man was a roamer and often took off on his own only to return later with a fresh rabbit or canteens of water. The timing of it all was bad with them being so hot on the girl's trail.

But things were turning in their favor. At first light the youngest one had spotted the smoke line in the distance and they'd been tracking it ever since. Even the most incompetent of them could follow a smoke signal.

They closed in on the camp and formed an even circle around the bundled figure on the ground. Dark brown locks spilled out from the end of a thin, tattered sleeping bag. The leader grinned and felt a growing stiffness in his pants. Brunettes were his favorite.

"Wake up," he said roughly, his weapon aimed. She was out good. "Get up!" he said louder but there was no response.

He shifted uncertainly and caught the eyes of his other men, all of them eager but waiting. The youngest among them was still green, his expression fearful, but he would learn soon enough. They would teach him. And with that he kicked the sleeping woman so hard the sound of it echoed throughout the trees.

She continued to lie motionless and clumps of hair slid off and settled to the ground.

"What the…"

He shifted the body flat with his boot. Its rigid form rolled over and the hacked brown locks fell away to reveal the grisly, swollen face of their dead tracker. He was hardly recognizable.

Every man looked at the other, some dumbfounded, some slowly coming to the realization that they were being watched. That they were sitting ducks.

A shot burst through their group and simultaneously, the head of one man jerked violently, bone and brains exiting the side of his skull. Dead on his feet, the body fell to the ground, smothering the slow dying embers of Jane's decoy fire. Jane squeezed off two more rounds and dropped two more men before watching them scatter in all directions through her scope.

She positioned herself at the highest point available. It wasn't much, a mediocre incline at best, but it was an advantage. Her distance from the camp certainly left a lot to be desired. The newly acquired rifle that pressed snugly against her shoulder came with a very limited range. Unable to test the accuracy of the scope, she was happy that it proved to be excellent now. She tucked herself behind the fattest tree she could find, the long barrel steadied on one of her knives stabbed into the trunk. Jane eyed the campsite like a hawk, detected movement behind a tree, and let another bullet go. The recoil was sharp and the butt of the gun nagged at her collarbone. Wood and bark shattered, but no blood. The report echoed through the forest. _Dammit._ Instinctively, she took cover behind her tree.

Bullets whizzed past her, some burying into the thick trunk that shielded her body. Jane whipped around to return fire and her heart sank. Smoke. From the dead body that lay over the fire. It was slowly filling the campsite, literally providing a smoke screen for the outlaws. _Fuck._ She shot as accurately as she could into the group, continued to do so even as they fired back. She heard one of them cry out, and then the hammer clicked hollow in the chamber.

"Piece of shit," she grumbled, throwing the useless rifle to the ground and drawing out her handgun.

She sensed him before she heard him. A shadow passing through her peripheral vision. Jane twisted and slid low to the ground just in time to save her life. The tree exploded around her, splinters and buck shot peppering her torso and igniting her with white hot pain. She fell backwards into a thick pile of brush, her hand immediately covering her abdomen. When she pulled it away, it was crimson with blood.

"Fuck," she grimaced.

The tree had absorbed much of the impact but not enough, not nearly enough. Each heaving breath Jane took confirmed the stinging presence of pellets and wood driven into her skin.

This complicated things.

"I…I think I got her!" One of them yelled out. He must have snuck away through the smoke and flanked her.

It was time to run again.

But she'd never be able to evade the spray of a shotgun, especially like this. Jane imagined herself falling in a wide hail of shot, and then dragged off to God knows where. No, it would have to be eliminated first.

She re-gripped the gun in her slippery, blood-smeared hands. Jane knew her enemies well. Rotters wanted one thing and so did the outlaws. They hunted women for a specific reason and it sure as hell wasn't to kill them.

She groaned pitifully like a dying animal. Given her sorry state, it wasn't much of a stretch.

"Check on her," a voice commanded from the campsite.

Slow, tentative footsteps approached and then others in the distance. They were mobilizing to surround her, to put her right in the center of a kill zone. Adrenaline rocketed through her system, and she had to fight the urge to run like hell.

"Lady?" A voice croaked. It was that kid. Even through the distant eye of the scope, Jane could tell he was not like the others. Not yet.

This was gonna hurt.

In one fluid motion Jane sat up, her gun raised into her sights with both hands. She ignored the violent objection of her torso, her nerve endings frayed and screaming. Three quick shots pierced through his chest, and the boy with the shotgun was gone. She fired a few more in the direction of the camp, and then hustled to her feet. With her arm cradled around her stomach, she stumbled through the trees.

___**···················**___

Jane hated last resorts. They always had a damn irritating way of being less than ideal.

She curled her arm tighter against herself to staunch the flow of blood oozing from her gut. Normally a graceful runner, her feet were heavy and leaden now, connecting with the ground in hard strikes. The aftershock of each step jabbed straight to the core of her body.

_Keep going._

She could hear her destination, the muted roar in the distance growing louder with each stride. The trees were thinning.

_Almost there._

Moments later the tree line broke and Jane had to lock every muscle in her legs to keep from tumbling over the edge. Gravel and debris kicked up from the tread of her boots and skipped along the ground before dropping off the lip of the ravine. She inched towards it with care. Thirty feet below, the river was thrashing from the early spring melt, its hazardous waters churning ominously. Millions of gallons rushed by in the time it took for Jane to weigh her options. This was either going to be her escape or her grave. Either way it would be her choice to make and not theirs.

Jane backed up several yards and secured her pack tightly with a few hard tugs. She gave a final glance over her shoulder, saw the brush and vegetation sway as the last remaining outlaws appeared, and then raced forward. She launched herself as far past the ledge as she could, their gunshots and shouts chasing after her.

And Jane was flying…

___**___**·**___**___

"_Look, I'll be more careful," she said._

"_What do you mean?" Maura asked, her brow furrowing._

"_Next time. I'll wait for back-up."_

_Maura couldn't help smiling._

"_I never said-"_

"_I know you didn't," she interrupted. "You didn't have to. It's kind of written all over your face."_

_Maura pondered this as she helped Jane back into her jacket, draping one shoulder of it over her injured arm. She smoothed it down, her fingers lingering on the material._

"_You have good instincts, Jane. Today you used them to make a choice that I don't think many others would have made. I won't question that."_

"_Yea, but you want to," she said smiling, unconvinced._

"_I will always question anything that puts your life in danger, but such is the nature of your job. Your instincts have kept you alive this long," she said slyly. "Your impulsiveness, on the other hand, that might get you into real trouble one of these days. Please make sure to differentiate the two."_

_They stood a little closer than two friends should, neither of them wanting to be alone, until Maura pushed her gift into Jane's hand. She clasped it tightly, blinked, and moved towards the door. Maura's palm rested on the small of Jane's back, needlessly guiding her out._

_She turned to give Maura one last smile goodbye, her breath suddenly gone…_

____**___**·**___**____

Cold. It was all she could feel.

That and the heart-stopping sensation of being powerless in the grip of the river.

A torrent of snow melt cut into every pore on her body, its icy chill threatening to consume her. The current pulled her under, tossing her every which way until Jane couldn't tell up from down. Her head managed to break the surface and she sucked in a precious gulp of air before being swallowed back under.

An array of fallen branches suddenly rushed through her line of sight and she shot her arms out in desperation. When one of her hands found purchase around a scraggly mess of debris, the force nearly jerked her arm right out of socket. _God_. This was almost worse than before. The water beat against her, crashing into her face and throat with a bruising intensity. It was kind of like drinking from a fire hose, but a thousand times worse. She managed a few good breaths before the bundle of sticks in her hand snapped apart and she was sent spiraling back down.

The river began to narrow, its waters constricting into a flow so turbulent that she could actually feel herself accelerating. It went on this way for what seemed like forever, and Jane focused on seizing any breath she could. If she was lucky it would be mostly air. And just when things could not have gotten any worse, she spotted an object in the distance and would have blanched were the blood not already drained from her face.

A boulder jut out from the river, ominously parting the waters that foamed and pillowed up against it. It was directly in her path and threatened to crush her on impact. Any effort to dodge it would just be wasted energy. All she could do was hit it feet first and hope to absorb most of the shock with her knees.

Jane was going faster than she realized and before she knew it, the impenetrable rock was upon her. Its surface slammed against the soles of her feet and her worn-out legs were no match. She was launched forward and screamed as her shin split open across its dull, stony edges.

The waters churned and rolled her like a ragdoll, disorienting Jane to the point where she couldn't even reach for her leg. Everything felt a blur and in her pain-induced fog, she somehow managed to sense that she'd been submerged for too long. _Air._ Her empty lungs screamed for it and she had no choice but to fill them with water. It was like she'd swallowed a bowl full of razorblades.

She was probably going to drown now…

___**___**·**___**___

_Her breath hung in her throat and she could barely mask the regret in her voice._

"_I'm not as impulsive as you think."_

_Maura, perhaps more than anyone else, knew just how true that was._

"_Maybe you should be," she said lightly, not entirely sure of what she meant, and went on her tip-toes to kiss Jane on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."_

"_You will," she said. Her hand went to Maura's arm and squeezed it. "And the next day, and the next, and the…" A crooked smile spread over Jane's face. _

_She was teasing but Maura couldn't help but be touched by her friend's reassurance. A reminder that she would always return to her, that she would always be there. Jane was the only person who had ever given her that._

_Jane slid past her and out the door, their bodies making subtle contact against one another, neither woman realizing that a heart other than her own was rioting in its chest._

"_Night."_

"_Goodnight, Jane."_

____**___**·**___**____

Death wanted her. Its cruel fingers slid around her throat, offering an end to it all, promising her peace. But Jane had somewhere she needed to be and death would just have to wait.

She kicked with her one good leg, arms thrashing in all directions. The icy water stung at her eyes but a faint glow in the darkness beckoned to her. If she could only get there. _Fight, Jane._ Splotches of black clouded her vision and a force gripped her so intensely that for a moment, she thought she was being attacked. She realized it was her own body turning against her - brain suffocating, her muscles convulsing, nothing was in her control anymore. The waters sucked her under, carrying her further and further from the light.

_I'm sorry, Maura._

It was as if the river had grown tired of Jane when it spit her out into the sky. The white light of day just about blinded her and she was flying again. No not flying. _Falling._ She turned her head and inhaled one sweet, healing breath before crashing through a wall of water, shoulder first.

Jane wondered how many times her life could flash before her eyes in a single day.

The violence of the river was a stark contrast to the eerie stillness she floated in now. She almost believed she was dead, but doubted that the dead experienced this much pain. In fact, she knew they didn't. Rotters. Outlaws. She would never be safe again. Claws and broken teeth came at her from the shadows and Jane's body jerked to life. Her eyes shot open and scanned around her in all directions.

She was alone with nothing but the clear water of a lake surrounding her and a light shining from above.

Half-dead and trembling, she dragged herself from the water and fell in a crumpled heap on the shore. She had nothing left. If anything or anyone found her now she was done for anyway so she lay there, sprawled on her stomach. Lungs on fire but too spent to even cough, water dribbled out of her mouth and life seeped from her wounds. Finally, she rolled onto her back and the sky never looked so blue.

_You're alive you crazy ass._

Jane laughed weakly to no one but herself, the sound of it ringing oddly in her waterlogged ears.

Her hands began moving over her body like they were on autopilot. The routine was mechanical now. Pack, check. Weapons, check. Body, check. She felt a discomfort in her stomach and almost forgot that she'd been shot. Jane lifted her head to study her wounds and made a face. God, that was going to leave a mark. She pulled the biggest wood shards and a few pellets from her flesh before abandoning the task altogether. At least they had stopped bleeding. Mostly. Her leg on the other hand - the pain flaring from her shin was damn near about to make her pass out.

"Fuck..." she mumbled. She didn't want to look but sat up anyway.

It was hard not to notice the watery red trail that flowed down from her boot and into the edge of the lake. A small swath of shoreline was now a sick pinkish hue of diluted blood. Beyond that she saw how the lake and its lush surroundings were fed by the river that nearly killed her. A modest waterfall sparkled in the distance, the cascading water kicking up in a fine mist like tiny crystals in the air. The scene would have been quite beautiful if not for the fact that Jane was dying right there on the spot.

She unbuckled her belt with shivering hands, ignoring the stiffness in her shoulders and the aching in her chest. Inky spots began to blur her vision and Jane mumbled a few profanities. After a few rough jerks, the leather whipped off her waist with a snap and she lashed it just below her knee, cinching it tight. Enough to staunch the blood but not enough to deaden her limb. With her knife she cut away the fabric of her pants and finally got a good look at her leg, then immediately wished she hadn't. The wound was gaping and grotesque, not quite to the bone and not broken, but serious nonetheless.

"Could be worse," she winced to herself deliriously before collapsing on her side. She vomited up a puddle of river water and bile.

The clouds broke apart like a miracle, sunlight streaming from sky and enveloping Jane in warmth. Jane wasn't sure if she believed in God, not anymore. But in that moment, as she hung precariously in that slip of space between life and death, she felt that someone other than herself wanted to see her live.

Unable to fight the fatigue and blood loss any longer, her eyes rolled back into her head and everything faded away.

She gripped the knife tightly in her hand before passing out.

___**···················**___

"It was slow going after that," Jane said grimly. She stared into an empty ceramic mug that rested between both her hands. She'd gotten her first hot shower in months and her nails were a bit cleaner now, but the deepest grime held fast against the quick.

Dinner hours were almost up and only a few late-comers remained in the mess hall. They sat at the end of a long metal table that could easily accommodate twenty people. Occasionally, they would spot Jane's mom waving to them from the line and would wave back.

Neither of them had eaten much of their dinner, the plates nearly untouched since they sat down. In this environment, not finishing your food wasn't bad manners as much as it was an insult to those starving out in the wasteland. Jane had been one of those people not too long ago, and Maura made a mental note to apologize to Angela later.

She'd barely touched her coffee.

"You gonna drink that?" Jane asked.

"It's cold."

Jane smiled gamely. "Really? You know it could be frozen for all I care. I'd eat it like a popsicle."

Maura smiled and slid her mismatched cup across the table. Their fingers brushed together when Jane accepted it.

"My God, Jane," she said. "You're lucky to be alive."

A slight nod of her head and a sip of coffee was Jane's only acknowledgement of this fact. Then her eyes darkened almost imperceptibly, chased by a subtle flinch of her high cheekbones. When she refused to meet Maura's gaze, Maura had the horrible feeling that the worst was yet to come.

"You were defending yourself," she said helpfully.

"I was," she agreed. "I was that time."

"You were discovered by more outlaws?" Maura asked, slightly confused. Jane rarely made the same mistake twice. Never, actually.

"No, not exactly." Jane's voice was hard, the tone carrying a distinct edge that Maura had heard before. She was slowly beginning to understand why Jane had reacted the way she did towards Garrett.

"What did you do, Jane?"

"It took awhile for things to get better. My leg, the infection, the pain…" she sighed, the frustration rising in her voice. "The downtime set me back for weeks. Day after day, I kept thinking about what happened. I wondered where they were and what they were doing. Who they were hurting..." She took a big gulp of coffee, its bitter flavor muted by the acrid words forming in her mouth. "When I was good enough to travel, I stopped avoiding the outlaws. If I found them, I…"

Jane's words trailed away, but the implication was crystal clear.

"I see," Maura said. Jane always was an opportunist. She probably expected her to be shocked or disgusted, but she wasn't. The only thing that mattered was… "You could have been killed."

Maura's unyielding compassion sank into Jane's heart like a blade and made everything hurt that much more. This wasn't what she wanted. She shook her head and scoffed bitterly.

"Is that all you have to say? I was never going to be killed. I was the one doing the killing. I _hunted_ them, do you understand?" She leaned forward. With her chin down, her face looked frighteningly gaunt. It was the same face she'd given those men before delivering their deaths. "I hunted them like animals, every chance I got. I waited and killed them in cold blood and it was easy. You wouldn't believe how good I was at it."

"Please stop," Maura whispered, unable to look at her.

Jane was shaking from the cruelty of her words.

She hated herself so much.

Hated what fate had given her as she travelled in a vicious world of corruptible men and flesh-eating monsters. Wandering from place to place with a heart half-full and crippled. That was the thing about empty hearts, they didn't work. Not until they were full again and Jane had been _so_ desperate to fill the gaping hole in her chest. It had been absurdly easy for the cold comfort of vengeance and death to get inside. They masqueraded as justice and occupied the place in Jane that for so long belonged to the woman sitting right there in front of her. A woman who had snuck into Jane's heart just as effortlessly.

It was no place for her now.

Maura's face was stricken with sadness.

"You want me to hate you, but I won't. I can't, Jane."

"You should," she said, her voice faltering.

"Why should I? It's clear you despise yourself enough for the both of us," Maura said sharply.

It was true, of course. Maura would never turn her away. Jane would just have to find more creative ways to punish herself and maybe she already had. She frowned, observing the lines in her hands. She opened and closed her fingers a few times, trying to flex away their trembling. The weather had deepened the grooves in her skin and hard living had done the rest. Sometimes if she looked long enough, she could swear the flecks of dried blood were still buried there.

Then Maura's hands slid across the dull cafeteria table and enclosed around hers. They were smaller and soft against Jane's rough skin. Healer's hands that had been wasted on the dead. She had the ridiculous urge to bring them to her face, to burrow into them and have them shut out the world.

They could heal Jane if she let them.

"Something changed didn't it?" Maura asked. Whatever vendetta Jane had, she'd abandoned it long before coming here. The examination proved as much - the age of the scars, the lack of any major defensive or offensive wounds, her knuckles clean and unmarred.

Jane sighed wearily. "When you spend every waking minute wondering who you're going to kill next, it's a pretty good sign that you've taken a wrong turn. I thought I was winning some kind of battle out there, that I was fighting a war. But it's not a war. Not really. It's just…it's just the world. One day I realized I didn't know who I was anymore."

___**___**·**___**___

_Blood covered her hands and face, its texture sticky and thick from coagulation. She ran her tongue over her split lip and across her teeth. A familiar copper taste filled her mouth and she spit a wad of bloody saliva into the brook before plunging her hands into the water. The coolness brought instant relief to her swollen knuckles. The knives went in too. The stream swirled red, then pink, then ran clear, carrying away all her sins. She stripped her shirt off, rinsing as much blood out of the fibers as she could, and then draped it over a rock to dry._

_Noon. The sun was at the highest point and not a cloud was in the sky. She tilted her face towards the warmth and wondered idly when spring would turn to summer. Her hair was getting long again, strands of it stuck to her skin and water dripped from their wavy ends._

_To her left, a disturbance in the water and a barely-there splash brought her gun into her hands, aimed and ready._

_Jane couldn't believe what she saw._

_Turtles. Small ones, big ones. Their elaborate shells dotted the sandy edge of the stream like a miniature army. What could only be described as a pile of them sun bathed on a flat piece of slate rock - a few of the more adventurous ones crept lazily towards the edge and plopped into the water. Spring was here and they must have come out of hibernation, emerging from their gravelly tombs to venture into the world once again. Not exactly privy on reptilian life cycles, she knew this only because Maura had subjected her to countless documentaries over the course of their friendship._

_Maura. She smiled automatically and then paused because she couldn't remember the last time she'd thought of her. For a few minutes, Jane struggled to recall the exact shade of her eyes._

_Her fingers went limp, the gun in them clattering down onto the smooth stones beneath her feet. She stared at it, suddenly dizzy, and rocked back from her haunches to sit on the ground. Her daggers lay benignly in the stream, cleansed and renewed, the blades glinting in the sunlight. Beautiful and deadly, just like her._

_The pain hit Jane so deeply that she was nearly left breathless._

_It forced her to dig frantically through her pack until she found what she was looking for. The box sprang open and pictures tumbled out everywhere. With crazed fingers, she searched until she had it in her hands - Maura and her beautiful smile. Her eyes bright and care-free and the two of them full of joy. Full of each other._

_Jane wasn't sure how long she stayed that way, hunched over the photo, her leg throbbing, memorizing every detail and refusing to look away because she might forget again._

_What was she doing?_

_Her hands dove into every pocket of her stiff cargos and Jane almost cried when she felt it. The scarf bunched sloppily in her palms, the ends drifting out and brushing the ground. The only blood staining it was her own._

_Tears stung behind her eyes as she began to wind it around her hand. Over and over, not even bothering to cover her wrist. She couldn't even finish the job when the sobs came. Choking up from her throat like caged animals, her body became wracked with them. She pressed her hand against her mouth, muffling the horrid sound of her cries, and bit down hard into the fabric._

____**___**·**___**____

Jane blinked and glanced up to find Maura waiting on her.

"Guess I kind of lost my way," she said. "Forgot what I was looking for."

Maura blinked a few times, slightly puzzled. Her eyes flickered to something behind Jane before returning.

"What were you looking for?"

Jane froze, her expression mimicking that of a deer in the headlights and Maura couldn't help but smile at the paradox. Here was the most extraordinary person she'd ever known, reborn from the ashes of the apocalypse; a cold-blooded killer by her own words, and Maura had rendered her speechless with a simple question.

She had the suspicion that Jane wasn't telling her everything and yet trusted her completely. It really made no sense at all, but it had to be true because when Jane looked at her like this, brown eyes dark and glassy and full of emotion, Maura _felt_ it.

She felt whole again.

Maura tapped the lip of her coffee mug. Her smile was easy and caring and more than Jane deserved. "We had a deal, remember?"

"Maybe…maybe another time, okay?" she asked timidly.

Maura unconsciously drew her thumb down the inside of her wrist, not noticing when Jane swallowed visibly.

"Okay," she acquiesced but couldn't quite let it go. "Did you find it? Whatever it was you were looking for?"

This time, Jane didn't hesitate to answer.

"I did."

Their eyes locked together as gentle, bittersweet smiles grew on their faces. Smiles that told of unspeakable heartbreak and loss.

Both feeling the same way. Both not knowing where to go from here.

"Your mother," Maura sighed.

"What? No. I mean yes?"

"No, your mother," she repeated and waved at someone behind Jane.

Over her shoulder she could see her mom headed their way. As always, the woman had perfectly awful timing. Jane turned back and nearly smacked noses with Maura, who was leaning across the table, hazel eyes riveted on her.

"I told you before that I wanted you back. I meant it, Jane." Maura touched her cheek gently and the whisper of her fingertips trailed down Jane's skin until they fell away from her jaw. "I will never give up on you, even if you've already given up on yourself."

Jane's heart began doing that thing again as it sputtered and slowed into one frantic beat.

Maura stood up suddenly, a polite smile spreading over her features, and welcomed Angela to the table.

___**···················**______**···················**______**···················**___


End file.
